The Storyteller
by Nationless
Summary: Roderich never liked fairy tales. But after Gilbert shows up in his house after a two year absence, that seems to be almost all that comes out of his mouth. Now, Roderich has to listen and try and find the truth behind his new housemate's stories.
1. Chapter 1

_Roderich Edelstein_

Roderich's eyes never broke contact from the keys of his piano when he heard the series of loud crashes that signified Gilbert had arrived. He may have winced slightly as he wondered what the damages to his house were, but he didn't pause.

With a sigh, he figured that all he could do was wait for the albino to storm into his room and make some unreasonable demand that Roderich would refuse to comply with. With Gilbert, that's really all one could do.

Ten minutes passed by. Then twenty. Before the pianist realized, an entire hour had passed, and Gilbert was still nowhere to be seen, or heard. Nervously, he fidgeted with the cuffs of his jacket after he finished playing. It was unlike the other man to be quiet for so long.

He never considered the possibility that it might not be Gilbert who had made such a horrendous amount of noise earlier. It was always Gilbert, no matter how many times he called the police on him for breaking and entering. He always proceeded to show up the next day, usually through the only window Roderich consistently forgot to lock.

"Gilbert, I know you're out there," he called out, just wanting to get it over with, whatever 'it' was.

After a few moments of silence, Roderich heard the heavy footsteps caused by those damned boots Gilbert always wore. He noticed with surprise that they were unusually slow. Gilbert was usually running around like a maniac; not trudging as if he were participating in a funeral.

"Gilbert," he nearly growled. He had no patience for the odd games of the self-declared 'Awesome' Gilbert Beilschmidt today.

After what seemed like another five minutes, Roderich saw the little yellow canary that was the eternal prelude to Gilbert's arrival. If his memory served, Gilbert had practically named the thing after himself.

"Hey Specs," Gilbert greeted before he turned the corner. "Can we talk?"

Roderich's lips set into a harsh line at the nickname. "For the last time, my name is—"

"Not Specs, yeah, I know," Gilbert finished. "Look, can we talk _Roderich_?" he tried again, using the brunette's proper name for the first time in almost a year. "It's important," he added.

That was never something Roderich wanted to hear. 'Important' could mean anything from 'I'm bored' to 'I sold your house' when it came to this moron.

Roderich readjusted the wire-framed glasses, and nodded curtly. 'He won't leave unless I listen to whatever it is he wants to say,' he thought to himself as he led Gilbert to the music room that was his haven.

Gilbert Beilschmidt looked every inch the arrogant slacker he was at heart. His silvery-white hair was uncombed, and disheveled. Crimson eyes lazily flicked around at random intervals, and even his clothes, though they were of higher quality than one would normally assume, looked as if he had slept in them the night before.

He was a stark contrast to Roderich, who took great pride in looking presentable. His chestnut hair was smooth, and styled carefully, while his plum-toned eyes were masked slightly by wire-rimmed glasses, and he was always dressed as if he were about to dine with the Queen.

"I'm leaving," Gilbert announced as Roderich took a seat on his piano bench.

Roderich stared openly at the albino with wide eyes. "Is that all?" he asked after Gilbert didn't elaborate. "You broke into my house to inform me that you are leaving?"

A crooked grin stretched his slightly chapped lips. "Pretty much," he admitted. "I wanted to say goodbye before they sent me away."

A decent portion of Roderich didn't even care. But, there was enough curiosity in him to prompt him to ask, "Who is sending you away to where?"

His grin faltered. "I'll tell you when I get back," he eventually answered, tugging nervously at the collar of his shirt. His dark, crimson eyes darted around quickly, and Roderich swore he saw what looked like fear in them.

"And when, pray tell, will that be?" As soon as the question left Roderich's mouth, he wanted to take the words back. He didn't care for the German idiot. He didn't care when he left, and didn't care when he came back.

Gilbert sighed, and bowed his head in what could only be described as defeat. "Look..." He paused for a moment as a phone alarm went off. Curling his upper lip contemptuously, he shut off the alarm and shoved himself up. "I'll be back by snowfall, all right? I promise, Roddy." With another flash of that cocky grin, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

"My name is not Roddy," he insisted. "And I don't care when you get back, just don't come here!"

It didn't take long for the first snow of the winter to fall from the skies. Roderich told himself multiple times he wasn't expecting anything. But still as the sun set on that day, he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The white-haired demon named Gilbert didn't show up.

Months dragged on. April rolled around, and there was still no sign of him.

Now, Roderich was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. Gilbert used to show up at his house a couple of times a week; not seeing him for almost six months was causing tendrils of worry to curl through his system.

'Maybe he meant the snowfall of the coming year,' Roderich tried to persuade himself. 'Maybe he'll show up six months from now, when the next snow falls.'

With a sigh, he pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. "Why am I even worrying about that idiot?" he asked himself. "He has done nothing but cause me trouble since the moment we met."

Another six months passed. Roderich told himself that he wasn't expecting Gilbert to show up as he watched the snow fall on the ground.

He didn't show up, of course. Another Gilbert-less winter passed Roderich by, and he kept trying to tell himself that he didn't care.

Roderich didn't want to be shocked at the sight that greeted him when he first entered the piano room. Maybe it had been a year and a half since he had last seen Gilbert, but he shouldn't be surprised that he decided to show up out of the blue. If he was honest, Roderich should have expected that from Gilbert.

But, the sight of him, curled up on his side, the Iron Cross he always wore on a chain coiled onto the floor, and the look of utter peace across his face, completely took him by surprise.

His white hair was a little longer than usual, and Roderich thought that his skin had gone a little lighter, even though he had believed that to be impossible before. The stupid yellow chick was nestled in his hair, and appeared to be sleeping.

"And here I was thinking you were never coming back," he muttered to the albino on his floor.

He waited for some kind of witty response from Gilbert.

It didn't come. Somehow, the man had managed to fall asleep on the cold, hardwood floor.

Roderich was unsure of how long he had been in there, or why he had even come back. But, as he dug through the linen closet, he couldn't help but feel a small pang of satisfaction.

He had made good on his promise to return.

Carefully, he laid a blanket across Gilbert's sleeping form. He learned a long time ago that it was a terrible idea to wake Gilbert up, so he decided the next best thing was to try and make him as comfortable as he could.

Roderich watched as Gilbert, still unconscious, curled up underneath the blanket; his hands twisting in the fabric. He noticed a long, but thin, cut across his cheek. It was still relatively fresh, but had stopped bleeding.

It was spring when Gilbert returned. "You're such a liar," he murmured with a smile as he closed the door. When Gilbert woke up, he wouldn't be able to say that to his face. But, it was still nice to be able to say it to him, even if he didn't hear.

Almost twelve hours later, Roderich still hadn't heard anything from the piano room. He just shrugged it off as Gil still being asleep, but still checked on him.

"Hey Specs," he murmured. Gilbert hadn't left the floor; the blanket now draped haphazardly around his shoulders.

"How long have you been awake?" Roderich found himself asking.

He got a shrug in reply. "Time doesn't really mean much. I couldn't tell you." His red eyes flicked up to meet Roderich's. "But, I'm pretty sure it's been at least a couple of hours," he added, seeing the disapproval in Roderich's face.

"Why did you come back?" Roderich finally asked, breaking the silence. "I told you not to come back here."

Gilbert looked up, confusion clear on his face. "I told you I would, didn't I? I'm pretty sure I told you I would come back to you when I could…."

"No, you told me you would come back when the snow falls," he retorted. "Where the hell have you been?"

In the back of his mind, Roderich realized he was contradicting himself. Telling Gilbert he wasn't wanted here in one breath, and demanding an explanation for his absence in the next.

"Around," Gilbert returned. His crimson eyes averted themselves to the edge of the blanket around him. "Nowhere terribly special, I mean," he backtracked.

"If it's nowhere special, then tell me where."

He shook his head slowly, a hand going up to cover his eyes. "It's too early," he said, improvising an excuse. "Maybe if you let me sleep here, I'll tell you."

"Go home!" Roderich snapped.

Normally, that outburst would have earned Roderich a wry chuckle. It surprised him when all that he got from Gilbert was an almost imperceptible wince.

"What home?" Gilbert said to himself as he picked himself off the floor. "All right, Specs. I'll get out of your hair," he continued louder.

"Gil…." Roderich worried his lower lip between his teeth. Something was off with him, Roderich could tell. He wasn't acting nearly as obnoxiously as he used to. Something must have happened while he was away.

As if he could sense the direction of Roderich's thoughts, Gilbert waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever, Specs," he returned with a hollow laugh. "I'm leaving; no need to get your panties in a twist."

Roderich continued to follow closely behind the albino, trying to take back his words.

Gilbert snubbed every single attempt. As he reached the main entrance, Gil finally paused. "You asked me why I came back, right?"

Roderich nodded mutely.

A twisted smile formed on his lips. "I promised I would come back by snowfall. Sure, my timing's a bit off, but I keep my promises. You should know that by now."

Roderich _did_ know that. He had witnessed Gilbert nearly break his back trying to keep multiple promises he had made.

"Your timing was off. That means your promise wasn't kept," Roderich insisted, purely out of habit.

"Would you prefer that I had waited until winter or something?" Gilbert snapped back. "Sorry, Specs, but I thought you would actually, I don't know, miss me or something?"

"Why on earth would I miss _you_?" As soon as those heated words passed his lips, Roderich realized that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

A devastating mixture of pain, anger, and despair flitted across Gil's face for a split second before he managed to throw on a mask of sneering indifference. "Because I am just that awesome," he answered, his voice strained.

"Gilbert, I didn't mean—"

"Yes you did," Gil interrupted. "You just didn't mean to say it out loud." With barely shaking hands, he reached for the brass doorknob. "But, whatever. It's not like you actually care about anything aside from your stupid piano. Why should I be different?"

Roderich felt the sting behind those words. "What I meant to say was, 'Why not me'?" he retorted softly.

"What are you talking about now?" Gilbert asked with a sigh.

"You nearly killed yourself so you could keep your promise to Francis. You broke three bones so you could make good on your promise with Antonio. Hell, you ended up in the hospital with three dozen cuts and five broken ribs just so you wouldn't let Feliks down, and you don't even like him!"

Gilbert stared at the musician stoically. "I tried," he returned lowly. "You have no idea how hard I tried to get back."

Roderich took a shuddering breath before responding, "But you didn't."

Crimson eyes narrowed at this. "If you're going to be all 'Woe is me', do it when I'm not in the room. I'm sick of listening to you complain about your pathetic little problems."

"You never leave," Roderich returned scathingly. "You're always here, in my house."

"I try to leave, and you stop me. Then you have the nerve to complain that I'm always here? How contradictory can you get, Specs?" By now, Gilbert was outright glaring at the more aristocratic man. "Make up your mind."

"I never tried to stop you," Roderich retorted.

"Then you'll have no problem if I were to walk out that door and never come back," Gilbert concluded. In one easy motion, he had the door unlocked and opened.

Roderich felt his blood run cold. For the last year and a half, he had been wondering where Gilbert was, what he was doing, and when he was coming back. Now, when he was finally here, all he seemed to be doing was pushing Gilbert farther and farther away.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "You said it yourself, you have no home anymore."

"But, I'm clearly not wanted here," Gilbert returned with a snarky grin.

Somehow, Roderich managed to get between the albino and the door. "Do you have anywhere _else_ to go?" he asked.

Backing up a bit to put some distance between the two of them, Gilbert shook his head mutely. His clever responses had failed him for the moment.

"Then you are going to stay in this house whether you like it or not," he concluded.

"I don't care if I stay here; you're the one with the problem," Gil pointed out. A small smile started to turn his lips as they started to fall back into their normal banter.

Gilbert was right, Roderich realized. "Fine, then you are going to stay here whether _I_ like it or not," he corrected. Blindly, he felt around for the locks on the door, and secured them.

"And if I don't like it?" Gilbert asked with a smirk.

"Stop contradicting yourself!"

Gilbert bit back a snicker. "Like you're one to talk. Are you going to force me? Do you plan to lock me up in some dark room to make me stay?"

Roderich's violet eyes flashed dangerously. "If that's what it takes, then yes. I'm not going to let you wander aimlessly because you have no place to go."

"Why do you care so much?" Gilbert asked bluntly.

That caused Roderich to pause. He had been asking himself that question for the better part of the day. "Because you're the closest thing to a friend I actually have," he finally answered truthfully.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and it's characters don't belong to me. Never have, and never will. Thankfully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia's still not mine. For the record.

_Gilbert Beilschmidt_

"_Little rabbit," a childishly sweet voice cooed. "Come over here."_

_The cement floor was cold beneath his bare feet. "Don't want to," Gilbert returned. He pulled his knees tighter to his chest, hoping that if he made himself small enough, the man would forget he was there, and leave him alone._

"_Gilbert," the other man said. His voice had turned emotionless, and lowered a bit. Loud footsteps signified that he was drawing closer._

"_No," he said through grit teeth. "I'm not coming over there."_

_Faintly, he could feel something warm trickling down his back. He couldn't feel the actual pain, but in the back of his mind, he knew that he was badly cut, and knew that it should be hurting._

_There was a loud 'clang'. Gilbert would recognize that sound anywhere, anytime. It was the sound of metal hitting concrete. "Gilbert," Ivan repeated._

_Gilbert flinched involuntarily. "You can't scare me, Ivan," he lied. "You and that stupid pipe of yours don't scare me a bit."_

_The curved end of the sink pipe was hooked around Gilbert's throat. "Then why did you jump?" he asked. Childish delight was evident in his pale, lavender eyes as he jerked on the metal rod._

_Gilbert's knees and hands slammed into the hard floor and he hissed quietly in imagined pain, his face screwing up to keep himself near-silent. He wouldn't allow himself to show weakness. Gilbert had to remember to stay strong, and to never let Ivan know how much he hurt._

_He quickly changed his mantra from 'show no pain', to 'try not to scream'._

_Gilbert plastered on a fake smirk, pretending that it didn't hurt at all. "You really think that you can scare me that easily? You're going to have to try a lot harder than that."_

_The metal rod shot into his ribs hard enough that Gilbert swore he could hear one of them crack. His teeth bit into his lip hard enough that blood started trailing down his chin. He managed to keep himself silent that time._

"_That's no fun," Ivan commented, twirling the pipe around like a baton. "I want to hear you sing, Gilbert."_

_He raised it over his head, and with a childishly cruel smile, smashed it down across Gilbert's head._

Gilbert jerked awake as soon as he fell unconscious in his dream. His body was tensed in preparation to either run, or fight. His eyes darted around the night-darkened piano room, looking for Ivan.

After a few moments, he felt himself relax. No one else was in the room with him. He was no longer on cold cement but on a duvet-covered hardwood floor. He was safe.

One would never guess that Gilbert had nightmares like this. When he slept, he didn't make a sound, and didn't move an inch. There was never any outward sign of distress.

With a sigh, he allowed himself to fall back onto the floor. It had been weeks since Gilbert had taken up residence in Roderich's music room; he wasn't sure why he was still so jumpy.

"Ivan can't hurt me, and couldn't break me," he muttered to himself. "I have no reason to fear that bastard. I'm at Roderich's now; he can't get to me."

He continued to say these things to himself for nearly an hour before he finally started to believe them.

With a sigh, he allowed his eyes to slip shut once more. Maybe now he could get some decent, nightmare-free sleep.

"Are you awake Gilbert?" he heard Roderich ask quietly from the other side of the locked door.

Grimacing slightly at his plan being ruined, he replied, "Yeah Specs."

Gilbert actually hated calling Roderich 'Specs', but he found recently that the nickname had been too ingrained in him to actually call him by his name.

"May I come in?"

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert managed to stumble to his feet, and open the door. "It's your house; you can do whatever you want."

"You live here now too," Roderich retorted. "More the point, it is common courtesy to ask before walking into someone else's room."

"It's your room though," Gil said with a grin. He loved doing this back and forth with Roderich. He always got the best reactions. "You're the one who bought the house, and the room in it. I'm just crashing here for a few days."

"You sleep in here, therefore it's your room," Roderich contradicted. "As an added note, you have been here for nearly a month; 'crashing here for a few days' wore out weeks ago."

"I'll leave if you want," Gilbert offered. "I'm sure I can find somewhere else to stay if I've worn out my welcome."

"Over my dead body," Roderich muttered. "You are staying in this house until you have a house of your own."

"I can always go back to West," Gilbert answered with a shrug. "I'm sure my little brother misses me." At this point, he was just trying to get under Roderich's skin; Ludwig was old enough that the disappearance of his brother probably didn't affect him anymore.

"Ludwig doesn't have a piano," Roderich pointed out.

Gilbert didn't respond for a moment. His fists tensed slightly as he tried to come up with a retort. Comments like that were the reason that Gilbert always acted the way he did towards Roderich; comments that indicated that he knew more than Gil wanted him to. If Gil acted as arrogant and shallow as possible, he figured that Roderich wouldn't know anything compromising.

Roderich had many guest rooms in his house. There was really no need for Gilbert to sleep on the floor of his piano room. However, something about the black grand piano brought comfort to Gil. Roderich, apparently, had taken notice of that.

An uncharacteristically smug smile twisted the brunette's lips. "It's as I said: you will be staying here until I say you can leave."

"What are you, my father?" he asked sarcastically, burying himself once more beneath the many blankets on the floor.

"No, but apparently I'm your best friend because you ended up staying at my house instead of anyone else's."

Gilbert couldn't find the heart to argue with him.

"Are you ever going to tell me where you were?" Roderich asked for the forty-seventh time in the past week.

Gilbert set a ruby-eyed glare on his benefactor. "Are you ever going to stop pestering me about it?"

Roderich pursed his lips. "You said you would tell me when you came back. It's been three weeks; I think it's time you made good on that."

"I never promised that." Gil had the innate ability to remember every promise he had made since he was sixteen years old. He distinctly remembered that he had never promised Roderich that he would tell him.

"'I'll tell you when I get back,'" Roderich repeated, doing a near-perfect imitation of Gilbert's voice. "I never said you promised that, but you did tell me that you would explain," he continued in his normal tone.

Gilbert froze for a moment. He had forgotten that he had actually said that. He had been so focused on making good on his promise to be back by winter, he had disregarded every other thing that had passed between himself and Roderich.

"I can't tell you," he eventually managed to respond. Nervously, his hand reached for the Iron Cross around his neck.

"Can't or won't?" Roderich asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Can't," he confirmed, sending an answering glare to the musician. "It's like those old stories; a wicked witch took away my voice, and only true love's kiss can restore it."

"Be serious." A rather disgusted grimace turned the brunette's lips.

"Oh, but I am, Specs. I would never joke about something like this," Gil returned quickly with a smile.

He rolled his violet eyes, and returned his attention to the cake he was baking. "Of course you wouldn't," he muttered. "Just like you never joke about anything else."

Gil sighed softly, unable to think up a quick retort. Honestly, Roderich was being ridiculous, he thought bitterly. He was only trying to protect the fragile musician; why couldn't Roderich just ignore the disappearance, and pretend that it had never happened? That's certainly what Gil was trying to do, and it was working just fine.

Or, at least that's what he told himself. In the back of his mind, he was positive that the nightmares weren't going to go away any time soon, and he didn't want Roderich to find out about any of the other vestiges that still haunted him since then.

He could feel his shoulder throbbing in pain since this morning, but just waved it off. He could always tell himself it was because he was sleeping on the hardwood floor.

"Please?" Roderich asked, oblivious to Gilbert's inner thoughts. "Just tell me, and I'll never ask again. Tell me one time, and then we can just forget the entire ordeal."

His wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on top of his head, since he didn't actually need them to see. Honestly, Gilbert would have caved to almost any other demand from Roderich. He just looked so damn cute like that. But, considering what Roddy was asking of him...

"Nope. You don't need to hear it; it's not really anything worth hearing."

Roderich almost pouted, his lower lip protruding slightly. "Will you at least tell me where you went? Did you make some epic trip to China or something, or were you just running around your backyard like a moron?"

That last remark stung. "I'm not a moron," he muttered. He was vaguely used to hearing those words directed at him, but it didn't mean it still wasn't a slap in the face. "My grades were almost as good as yours were."

"You failed half of your classes, and only passed the other ones because they were throwaway classes," Roderich retorted, easily getting off topic.

"You're just mad because you studied your pretty little ass off, and I still did better in you in math," Gil returned smugly, happy to no longer be defending himself against the onslaught of Roderich's questioning. He even decided to ignore the 'throwaway classes' comment out of gratitude.

A bright flush spread across Roderich's cheeks, and before Gilbert could ask why, a sharp slap cut across his cheek.

"What the hell, Roderich?" he cursed, pressing his hand against his stinging face. "What was that for?"

Roderich glared coldly at him. "You know what," he retorted.

Gilbert's brow furrowed, trying to figure out what he had said to warrant that glare, not to mention the slap.

Oh, right, he had said something about him having a nice ass. "Just a joke," he lied. "Honestly, you didn't need to hit the poor little albino kid."

Roderich ignored him, and didn't even reply. He just turned his back on Gil, and refused to look at him.

Apparently that 'joke' had seriously offended the brunette; Gilbert didn't even get to try the cake that Roderich had spent almost three hours making, and another three decorating.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read/followed/favorited/reviewed this. It means a hell of a lot to me ^_^ I'll try to update this weekly.

And I still don't own Hetalia, which I'm sure you're all grateful for.

~X~

_Gilbert Beilschmidt_

~X~

"Hey Roddy," Gilbert said tentatively after a few days had passed.

The musician was baking something again; the entire counter was covered in various boxes and canisters. He didn't say a word to Gilbert in response.

The silence in the house was killing him; Roderich had been avoiding the music room since the 'pretty little ass' comment. There was no piano music floating through the house anymore; it was just as silent as Ivan's had been. Maybe more so; at least at Ivan's house there was the sound of metal, and Ivan's voice to break the quiet at regular intervals.

"Roderich, please," he tried again, a pleading note hinting at his desperation.

"What do you want, Gilbert?" he returned quickly, not turning to face the other.

Gilbert nearly flinched at the cold tone in the musician's voice. It was unsettling to hear. Too much like the Russian's voice for Gilbert to feel comforted. But still, he had to ask, "Could you... Play something for me? I miss your music."

Roderich sighed, hand his head bowed over the mixing bowl. "You hate my music," he accused. "More the point, I'm busy right now. If you want music, then you play it."

"You know I don't play piano," he said defensively. "And how do you know I hate it?" Gilbert shot back. "You hardly know me; you don't know what kind of music I like."

"You listen to classic rock and metal; not classical," Roderich answered without a moment's hesitation. "Almost all of your music is either from the eighties, in German, or a combination of the two."

Gilbert stared in shock at the Austrian that still hadn't turned to look at him. Roderich shouldn't know about what kind of music he listened to.

"I know you better than you think," he said, the faint hint of a smile in his voice. "You always used to hum to yourself. Besides, you always made fun of my music at the first chance. Don't think I didn't hear you and your little friends always laughing at me behind my back."

Gilbert tried to think of an excuse. "Please?" he repeated, realizing that there wasn't really a way to rationalize his previous behavior without sounding insane.

"I said no, and I meant no. Why on earth would you even ask, anyways?"

It was time for another lie, Gilbert thought to himself. "Because I would rather listen to your prissy music than actually think about anything today."

Roderich sighed. He didn't say anything for a while as he poured the cake batter into a baking pan.

"When I'm done making this, I'll play something for you," he finally relented. His violet eyes locked on to Gil's for a brief moment before returning to the task at hand. "I'll play one piece, and that's it," he warned. "No more after that. And don't think that I'm doing it just because you asked; I need to practice anyways."

Gil suppressed a grin. "Whatever you say, Roddy."

~X~

It was Chopin that Roderich played.

Gilbert smiled, and allowed his eyes to slide shut as he tipped his head back, allowing it to rest against the cool glass of the window. He should have figured that was what he would get when he finally convinced Roderich to play for him.

It was one of the Nocturne's that was coming from the gorgeous instrument this time. He couldn't be sure which one; the fact that he could even recognize the composer was a victory to him.

But, considering it was Roderich... He realized that knowing he was playing Chopin wasn't much of a win. It was always Chopin that Roderich would play. Almost every single time. Ever since the first time he had heard him play...

~X~

_Gilbert followed the seemingly endless string of closed doors down the music hall of his new school. He could hear the extremely faint sounds of a piano, and was determined to find the source._

_He had arrived in this country mere days before from Berlin, and was supposed to be in AP Chemistry right now._

_Not that he ever cared about where he was supposed to be. Gilbert came and went as he pleased back in Germany; being in America wasn't going to change that._

_Instead, he followed the almost inaudible music down the obscure hallways that was lined with music rooms until he found the one he was looking for._

_Chopin. That's what he was hearing. Something pretty, and absolutely enthralling. This was the music he was always hoping for whenever he took a music class. This was the music he would never get._

_The sound got a bit louder, but as he continued, it started to get softer again. Gilbert realized that he passed the door, and immediately turned back around in a bit of a hurry._

_Surreptitiously, he peeked inside the little window on the closed door._

_The teen that was playing looked to be about fifteen, same as Gilbert. However, the two could not be more different if they tried_

_This kid was dressed so formally, Gilbert thought he could walk into the Queen's castle, and fit right in with the rest of the royalty. He seemed to be way too uptight for a fifteen year old, with his posture impeccable and not a hair out of place._

_However, Gilbert found himself enthralled with the brunette stranger. To the point where he stood outside the door just to see him when he left._

_Gilbert waited nearly twenty minutes before the door slowly opened. The teen walked out with his head high, but Gil had the sense that he was warily looking for _

_someone._

_"Hey kid, who are you?" Gil asked loudly, effectively startling the other._

_Sheets of music spilled from his arms, all over the floor as he whirled around to fix wide, violet-toned eyes on Gil._

_Fear. That's what Gilbert saw in those eyes, that posture. Absolute terror._

_Gilbert met that stare for what seemed like forever before looking down at the mess of sheet music. With a sigh, Gilbert knelt down and started collecting paper. "So not awesome," he muttered to himself._

_Immediately, the other boy fell to his knees and started scrambling to pick up the marked-up sheets as well, apologizing in a faint, musical accent._

_He chanced a look at some of the music that he was collecting. "You were playing this?" he asked, overwhelmed by the sheer number of notes on the page. What had sounded so beautiful and simple couldn't have been something as complicated as this, he thought to himself._

_Those violet eyes fixed themselves on Gilbert again. "Not this time," he replied. "This is what I'm supposed to play at the concert next month."_

_"Christ," Gil muttered to himself. "What is... Insane." He shook his head, incredulous. "What are you, some sort of prodigy?"_

_The brunette flushed and snatched the music from Gilbert's hands. "I am not; I just... I just happen to be rather good at this."_

_Gilbert snickered. "That makes you a prodigy," he pointed out. "But, whatever. Name's Gilbert. Who are you?"_

_He hesitated for a moment before responding, "Roderich. Roderich Edelstein."_

_"Roderich, huh?" Gil said to himself. He had been right. Everything about this boy, from his clothes, to his accent, right down to his name, was tense, and proper. "I'm going to call you 'Roddy'."_

_He heard a soft cry of protest from Roderich. "That's not my name," he insisted._

_Gil tried to hold back a smirk. Way too uptight for a fifteen year old boy. "So? I like Roddy a lot better than Roderich. That's what I'm calling you, unless you think you can stop me?"_

_His violet stare turned into a glare. "Fine, call me what you will," he finally said coldly._

_This time, a small chuckle passed Gilbert's lips. Even the way he spoke was incredibly formal. It was hilarious, in the albino's opinion. "Changed my mind; I'm gonna call you 'Little Master'. Is that more acceptable?"_

_Roderich huffed in irritation, and tried to walk past Gil without responding._

_"Hey, Little Master," Gil called out to him._

_Roderich sighed, and turned around to face him. "Yes, Gilbert?" he asked patronizingly._

_"Those glasses on your head... I doubt their very useful when they're not in front of your eyes," he pointed out._

_The brunette's eyes widened as he reached up to the top of his head to see if his glasses were really there. A faint blush dusted his cheeks as his fingers closed around the wire frames._

_Hurriedly, he settled them on the bridge of his nose before rushing off in the other direction, without saying another word._

_A wicked smirk twisted Gilbert's lips. He was going to like this place, he decided. All because of the cute little piano prodigy named Roderich Edelstein._

~X~

When Gilbert returned his thoughts to the present, the music had changed, even though Roderich had sworn he would only play one thing.

It was Beethoven, Gilbert noticed. It was an odd choice for Roderich. The music was soft, sweet, and ominous, like the eye of the storm. It was the kind of thing he never expected to hear this musician to play.

He reminisced for a little longer. In this room, Roderich played his music. The same Roderich who had always been there for him, even if half the time he seemed rather irritated at the prospect.

Roderich, who used to come to school with bandaged fingertips, and a cool, disinterested smile. Who had no friends, and seemed to like it that way.

The same Roderich who somehow knew everything about him without Gil having to say a single word.

Gil couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand the lies, or the silence that no amount of music could fill. "Ok, I'll tell you what happened," Gilbert said abruptly, interrupting Roderich's music.

The playing stopped just as suddenly, the notes still hanging in the air as if begging Roderich to finish.

"You will?" Roderich asked warily. He turned to look at the albino who was watching him carefully from the windowsill. His lips were pursed, and his brows were drawn together ever so slightly.

He smiled slightly. Roderich looked like a girl when he made that face. "Yes," he replied.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Just a warning, this is going to be a sort of longer fic... Gil's got a lot of crazy stories to tell, and it's going to take a while to get through. I don't plan on just ending it after one fairy tale.

Hetalia's still not mine, and I'm not making money from this.

~X~

_Roderich Edelstein  
_

~X~

Gilbert sat on the piano bench, Roderich having moved to the small chaise lounge that he had gotten for Gil years ago so he would stop sitting next to him while he played.

Roderich looked at him expectantly, but Gil seemed to be perfectly willing to take his time, and choose his words before starting.

"Once upon a time, there were two princes," Gilbert started quietly. "They lived in the Kingdom of Spades, which neighbored the Kingdom of Clubs, and the Kingdom of Hearts."

Roderich stared at him. He thought he was going to be hearing what had happened to Gilbert, not some children's story! Even as a child, he had detested fairy-tales. He would always ask for something more practical or realistic.

"Those are original names," he managed to scoff. "Is there a Kingdom of Diamonds too?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, and ignored his comment. "One day, the younger of the two princes' went to the Kingdom of Clubs, because he was to become King soon, and he wanted to make sure his Kingdom had good relations with the others."

"Shouldn't the older prince be next in line for the throne?" Roderich interrupted. "Logically speaking, that is." In the back of his mind, he wondered if Gilbert was really just trying to screw with his head, and he only left for so long as part of some big elaborate prank.

The only thing that contradicted that was the dead-cast he would sometimes see in Gilbert's eyes. That was his only indication that something actually had happened.

"Do you want me to tell the story or not?" Gilbert shot back, scowling.

Roderich sighed, and lifted his hands in defeat. "Go on." He decided this was most likely better for the albino than staring into empty space without saying anything for hours.

Ruffling his hands through his hair, Gil furrowed his brow for a moment before continuing. "Anyways, what no one told him before he left was that there was a terrible monster that lived in the Kingdom of Clubs.

"It was supposedly a creature that was fifty feet tall, and had a heart of ice. Its body was made of a substance harder than diamonds, and it was capable of changing its shape. You follow me?" Gilbert asked, breaking story for a moment.

Roderich nodded, trying to hide his irritation. He distracted himself by paying closer attention to Gilbert.

He noticed that Gil's fingers were clamped tightly on the edge of the piano bench, to the point where his knuckles were turning white.

Taking a deep breath, Gilbert continued. He was either ignoring to the growing tension in the room, or he just didn't care what Roderich was thinking.

"So, about a week into his journey, the youngest prince happened across an old man who asked for his help. He kindly agreed, because it was in his nature to assist those in need. What he didn't know was that the old man was really the monster in disguise.

"The oldest prince had just heard about his brother's trip to the neighboring Kingdom, and rushed off to find his brother. He was well aware of the monster that lived there, and knew that his brother was likely to fall for its tricks. His white horse sped across the nearly empty lands at impossible speeds, hoping to get to his brother in time."

Gilbert pulled one of his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms securely around it. His eyes fixed on the cherry-wood floors. Roderich considered that now may be a good time to stop him, but before he could say anything, Gil continued, almost without pause.

"Just as the monster assumed its true identity, the oldest prince arrived. He knew that there was only one way to kill it, and that was with fire. He was positive that if the younger prince didn't realize that it was a monster, he wouldn't know how to kill it.

"Fearing the life of his brother, the oldest prince persuaded the monster to take him instead of his younger brother. He claimed that his younger brother wasn't nearly as smart as he was, and wouldn't be as much of a challenge."

Roderich resisted the urge to say that the monster would have to be a complete idiot to listen to that. He was struggling with the entire concept of why Gil was telling him this nonsense fairytale when he said he was going to explain his disappearance.

"The older prince loved his brother very much. Enough that he would be willing to die in his stead," Gil explained, ruby eyes flicking up to meet Roderich's.

The musician could see that Gilbert was pleading for Roderich to understand, to believe him. He could see the desperation.

Gilbert broke eye contact first, getting back to his story. "Of course, the monster was interested in this proposal. So, he let the younger prince go free, and took the oldest prince into his lair." Gilbert paused for a few moments, before breaking into a strained smile. "The youngest prince made it to the Kingdom of Clubs, married the princess and lived happily ever after. The end."

Roderich stared blankly at Gilbert, waiting for him to say something more. "Is this some kind of joke?" he finally asked.

Gil shrugged. He had almost entirely relaxed at hearing Roderich speak, but there were still hints of tension in his shoulders. "Nope. That's what happened while I was away. You know I have a little brother, right? I had to save him from a monster."

"You said you were going to tell me where you were; instead you tell me some children's story? What the hell is wrong with you?" Roderich scowled, and adjusted his glasses. "Are you insane or something? Is that it?"

His ruby eyes went completely dead. "It's true. I went to fight a monster for West, and it took longer than I thought."

Roderich scrutinized the look on Gilbert's face, searching for signs of a liar.

Gilbert's lips were pressed into a severe line, and faint lines of worry were visible in his brow. There was no light in his red eyes.

"Ok, fine. It's the truth," he allowed, still not believing a word of it. If nothing else, he figured he could get the real story out of him later.

But right now, he was worried about what would happen if he pressed for more details right now.

~X~

"Gilbert? Dinner's ready; are you going to come out?" Roderich asked from outside his music room.

It had been nearly three days since the little storytelling experience, and Roderich could safely say that Gil was pissed at him. The albino hadn't left the room since telling him about the monster.

"Gil?" he tried again, after he failed to get a response. With a sigh, he unlocked the door, and cautiously stepped inside. "Don't be childish and ignore me," he said sternly.

Gilbert was staring blankly at one of the walls, still sitting on the piano bench. His knees were pulled close to his chest, with his chin propped on top of them.

He didn't even seem to notice that Roderich had come into the room. Roderich continued forward until he was standing right in front of him.

"Gil?" Roderich asked, waving a hand in front of those eyes.

Still, he got no reaction. Gilbert didn't even blink. Roderich was starting to worry now. There was no way that could be normal.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, answer me," he demanded, his worry segueing into anger. "It may have been rather amusing for the first day or two, but now I'm losing patience."

No response.

Roderich shook his head, his jaw clenched. "You are the single most infuriating _thing_to ever walk this earth," he told the motionless boy. "Fine, just sit there. See if I care."

Nothing, still.

Roderich bit his lip harshly. "Please say something," he said softly. "Please, Gilbert. I'm begging you."

Roderich waited another five minutes before walking out of the room, attempting to hold on to what little remained of his composure.

~X~

"Well, well. Look who decided to show his face," Roderich said bitterly as Gilbert slowly descended the stairs into the main sitting room.

There were dark circles etched beneath his eyes, and every move he made seemed to be stilted; unnatural. His flat gaze flicked up to meet Roderich's. "What?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

His lips pursed as he appraised the red-eyed man. "It's been a week since you left that damned room," Roderich informed him.

He blinked slowly, as if not believing Roderich. "A week?" he repeated. "You serious?"

"You honestly didn't notice? I went to check in on you after the whole story nonsense, and you were just staring at a wall. That was the twenty-third, and it's the thirtieth today. Haven't you been paying attention to anything?"

Gilbert's brows pulled together slightly. "You're lying to me," he said. "I'm calling bullshit, Little Master."

"Call what you want, but it doesn't change the facts," Roderich responded.

"What, the fact's you're lying to me? I never had you pegged for a monster, Specs." Through his accusation, red eyes glared straight through the musician. "But, I guess you're just in disguise like the rest of them."

Roderich rolled his eyes. "I think you've gone completely delusional."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** This is kind of a filler chapter... Sorry ^^; But I love the dynamic between the German brothers, and I wanted to include it in this. Especially considering how Ludwig does play a part in Gilbert's disappearance, whether he realizes it or not. So, in a way it's not filler?

Again, thank you everyone for reading, reviewing, alerting, and the like. It makes me happy to see that you guys like it :D

My non-ownership of Hetalia still stands. I'm just forcing the characters to play along with me.

~X~

_Gilbert Beilschmidt  
_

~X~

There were very few things that Gilbert could say that he actually hated. Black and white movies, dolls, and phone calls, however, were at the top of that short list.

The movies and dolls he could avoid until the day he died. However, he had been putting off this call for far too long.

He drummed his fingers on the wall as he listened to the repetitive ringing, waiting for his brother to answer. Aimlessly, he started walking back and forth along the eastern wall of his refuge.

Seven rings into it, he gave up and hung up. He halted his motions for a moment, before redialing less than a minute later, cursing under his breath.

"Not cool, West," he muttered into the phone as he resumed pacing the music room. "It's barely two, answer the damn-"

"Hello?" Ludwig's voice answered from the other end, successfully shutting Gilbert up.

Gilbert completely froze for a moment, before answering. "West! What's up, man?" A broad grin turned his lips; he missed his brother.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" Ludwig responded, almost unhesitatingly.

Gil snorted. "Please. How many people do you know that call you 'West'? It's me; your brother!" He resumed walking back and forth, trailing his fingers across the cool walls. "Seriously losing your touch, man. Why didn't you pick up earlier?"

This time, there was a marked pause as his breath caught in his throat. "You're lying," Ludwig said shakily. "Gilbert... Gilbert's dead. Who the hell is this? Don't toy with me!"

This time, the albino stopped, completely stunned. "Luddy? I'm seriously your brother. What do you mean I'm dead? That's ridiculous!"

"If you're Gilbert, then prove it," he challenged instead.

Gil huffed. "How exactly do you expect me to do that? Do I need to get Specs on the phone so he can vouch for my state of... Well, being alive, I guess?"

"Specs," he heard Ludwig repeat softly. "That's... Ok, you've got my attention. I might be willing to believe you're my brother. Might. But I'm still skeptical."

"West, why are you acting crazy?" Gil retaliated. "You haven't been this bad since the hospital visit when you were ten. C'mon, just act rational like you always do. Or has Feli taken away your common sense? I wouldn't put it past him to drive you bonkers, though."

He heard a short gasp from the other line. "Gilbert? Is... Is that really you?"

Gil rolled his eyes in exasperation. "What have I been trying to tell you since you answered the damn phone? Yeah, it's me! Who else would be this awesome?"

"Where the hell have you been?" he shot back instead. "It's been practically two years, no phone call, no visits, not even a god damned post card!"

Gilbert pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. "I've been doing stuff, West. I didn't exactly have cell service or transportation." It wasn't a very good lie; even Gil had to admit that. He figured his younger brother would see through his evasions in a heartbeat.

He wasn't disappointed.

"That's no excuse. Mom's worried sick; she's been in the hospital. You can't just up and leave with no explanation, East," he chided.

"You're starting to sound like our mother," Gilbert muttered. "Christ, can't a guy go on a... Journey of self discovery without being questioned and nagged about it?" With a soft sigh, he took a seat in front of Roderich's precious piano and stared blankly at the shining black instrument.

"Not when that person is you. You were the one paying the bills, Gilbert. We needed you home. Hell, we still need you at home. It's been a complete nightmare since you left!" There was a pause in his tirade as Ludwig stopped to take a breath. "I need you to come home, brother. I... I don't know how much longer I can put up with this. All the bills, all the pressure of being the only one who can work..."

"And knowing that if you can't pay, you'll be left homeless. I know, West." The faint crackle of static filled the line for several heartbeats. "Isn't that your answer?" Gil improvised. He hadn't been expecting his brother to hand him the perfect excuse for his absence, but he certainly wasn't going to waste the opportunity. "I couldn't even last a year supporting you guys."

Ludwig chuckled humorlessly. "Pretty sure you lasted about three years, actually," he corrected. "Look, I can help out now. Could you... Gilbert, come home, all right? I swear I'll get a job as well so you won't have to shoulder it all on your own this time."

Gilbert sighed. This was going to be the hard part, he thought. "I can't," he admitted. "Not yet, anyways."

"Wha- why? East," Ludwig pleaded. "I can't do this on my own. The hospital bills are starting to come in, and I-"

"No, look, Ludwig," Gilbert cut him off. "I can't come home. That's it, end of story." He stopped for a second, considering his words. Stories never ended, not really. "Ok, how about this: I can't come home. But," he continued over his brother's protests, "I can send money to you guys."

"Gilbert," Ludwig tried to interject.

"It's the best I can do," he retorted. "I told you, I can't come home."

"Can't or won't?" Ludwig sighed, and Gilbert thought he heard the sound of fabric rustling on the other line. "Gilbert, I miss having you home," he said. "Mom misses having you home. Why can't you come back to us?"

Gilbert laid his head against the wall, catching a faded glimpse of his reflection in the picture window on the other wall. He scowled at the image. "I don't want you guys to see me like this," he answered honestly. "I'll come back eventually. Just not right now. All right?"

Once again, there was a pause as Ludwig considered his brother's words. "You promise you'll come back?"

"On my life," Gilbert said. "Talk to you soon, West."

He didn't wait to hear if his brother had anything else to say before hanging up the phone. He resisted the urge to smash his head against the piano as he realized what he had just promised. Now he would have to find a way to get money to send home, and he actually had to go back at some point.

He didn't want to have to face his mother after his little disappearing act. That was a demon in a class all its own.

Slowly, he managed to set the phone down on the floor. Shaking his head, he stood, and once again, regarded the large pane of glass in the room.

"Hey Specs?" Gilbert called, eyes focusing on the window. "These things have locks on them, right?"

"What things?" Roderich asked in return. Gilbert caught the reflection of the musician as he entered the room. "The windows?"

"Yeah. Do they have locks?"

Roderich adjusted his glasses, likely assessing the scene. Gilbert watched his reflection patiently, keeping his shaky hands out of the other's sight.

"I would assume yes. However, you never seemed to have a problem getting in so I would think that they are useless at best. Why?"

The albino clenched his fists. "No reason," he said nonchalantly. "You wouldn't happen to have any curtains lying around, would you? I mean what if there's a creeper watching through it?"

He was sure Roderich answered; he could see his mouth moving around the words, and the lilting voice that belonged to the brunette.

But, that didn't mean Gilbert could make sense of them. For a split second, his eyes locked on those in the glass. In that moment, everything around him faded to black, just like a clichéd movie.

He couldn't think rationally. Every coherent thought he tried to form turned into something akin to a deluded fantasy.

Those bruises beneath his eyes... Were they really that violet? Like, Roderich's eyes violet? Wait, was that even a color? Well, he supposed if he could see it then it had to be. His eyes were never wrong, after all.

Hadn't he stitched up that gash on his forehead? No, the mice did that while he slept. Gilbert was certain of that. And he had obtained it fighting a monster for West. Or, was it Roderich?

Well, that meant the blood trickling down his forehead was a figment of his imagination as well, right? No cut meant no blood. But, that didn't explain what that stuff was that was all over his face.

In his eyes, Gilbert's face was covered in scars, bruises, and innumerable gashes. He could clearly see every injury inflicted over his lifetime, and he could suddenly hear every taunt in full volume.

'Freak,' they called. 'Monster. Worthless. Demon.'

Gilbert dragged his fingertips through the trails of red he thought existed. Near-invisible tremors shot down his spine in rapid succession as he glanced to his raised hand. When he broke eye contact with his reflection, the illusion shattered. No blood stained his hands. There was no sting of cuts, nor ache of bruised flesh. No one yelling insults into his ears.

"Gilbert?" he heard Roderich ask. Concern laced his usually bland tone in a way that made Gilbert want to believe he actually cared.

There was another sense he couldn't afford to trust, Gilbert thought grimly. He supposed that only left him with taste, and touch. "Curtains," he found himself repeating. "Do you have them?"

"I'm a bit more worried about you than a non-existent stalker," Roderich stated. "You look pale; are you feeling all right?"

Gilbert took in a shuddering breath as he tried to get himself together. He couldn't afford to lose it in front of Specs. He had more stories to tell him.

Besides, it would be so un-awesome if the little priss actually had to take care of him. Gilbert didn't need anyone's help.

"Yeah. I'm totally fine, Priss," he said, not really believing his own words. Even as he spoke, he could feel himself swaying unsteadily as he tried to stay upright.

As he had recently realized, saying something, and making it reality were two completely different things. Without much more warning, his vision blurred everything together in one cream-colored blob and the floor decided to slam into his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Oh my~ I seriously wasn't expecting the rush of love... All of the reviews, follows, and alerts: THANK YOU SO FRICKIN' MUCH! Especially to Mayumi Sato for recommending it on their blog, and luvablegit234 for watching over this from the start. All you guys are pure awesome ^_^

Still don't own, and still not getting paid for it. Hetalia belongs to Himaruya.

~X~

_Roderich Edelstein  
_

~X~

Roderich watched in shock as Gilbert collapsed. He had noticed the tremors wracking his body, and the way his eyes had glazed over, but he didn't think Gilbert would actually _faint_.

Not the indestructible Gilbert Beilschmidt.

The musician was by his side in a matter of moments; kneeling in front of the other man, but terrified to touch him. "Gilbert?" he asked, worry forcing his voice up higher than usual.

Gilbert didn't move. Not even the faintest fluttering of his eyelids, or a twitch of his long fingers.

Nervously, Roderich shoved his hair out of his face and pushed his glasses out of his line of sight. "This is not good," he murmured to himself, unsure of what he was supposed to do in this kind of situation.

'Maybe he just needs to rest,' he tried to convince himself. 'He'll wake up when he's ready.'

He refused to leave Gilbert's side until he revived over an hour later.

When Roderich asked him what had happened, Gilbert said nothing except: "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

~X~

It had been almost a week since the 'incident'. Roderich had given up on asking about it, because he would only get denial as a response.

Gilbert had yet to instigate a conversation since. Roderich would continue to sit in the piano room with him, but now there was no sound. No music, no words to break the heavy silence.

"I have a story to tell you," Gilbert stated, finally breaking the quiet barrier between them.

Roderich's eyes flicked over to where he was seated, and had to suppress a wince at the sight.

The albino looked even worse than when he arrived. Every physical injury may have healed, but Roderich couldn't shake the feeling that something had broken in the once proud albino.

It was easy to see that Gilbert hadn't been eating. His face was looking gaunter with the hour. His eyes were flat and completely lifeless. It had been days since Gil had even looked Roderich in the eye.

He remained huddled under a thick blanket nearly all the time, though it was well into summer. In the days since the fainting incident, he had left the piano room maybe twice.

Every ounce of confidence seemed to have been drained from him. Gilbert was completely curled in on himself, and was always trying to scrunch into the smallest space he could manage.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll listen."

Somehow, Gilbert managed to hunch himself over even more. It was reaching the point where the musician was torn between wanting to just mother him until he was better, and wanting to hit him over the head with something.

Gilbert didn't say anything for a while, so Roderich assumed that he had changed his mind. "You don't have to tell me," he said. "I promised I wouldn't ask anymore, so you don't have to tell me anything."

As he turned the brass doorknob, a soft, raspy voice broke the silence.

"Once upon a time, there was a monster."

Roderich froze completely. So, there was to be more monsters, he realized with a pang of despair. He mentally pleaded for this one to turn out differently than the other one.

"Would this be the same monster that kidnapped the oldest prince?" he found himself asking. Slowly, he turned around to look at his only friend.

Hands gripped the edge of the blanket to the point where his knuckles were white. "No," he said. His eyes remained on the floor as he spoke. "This one lived in the same kingdom as the two princes'."

With a soft sigh, Roderich walked across the room to sit in front of Gilbert. "All right," he murmured.

Gil continued in a monotone voice, making his words sound rehearsed. "The monster also took the form of a human. A woman with long hair, and eyes like the sky. The entire court marveled at her beauty, and it was a surprise when she declined marriage proposals from nearly every nobleman within a thousand miles.

"Instead, she chose to work for the queen in the royal palace as her personal handmaiden. The queen liked her so much, that she even began to confide in the monster. No one suspected what the woman truly was."

Gilbert's brow furrowed, as if he were deciding how this story was to proceed. "I should just shut up," he said abruptly. "I'm telling you too much. You don't really want to hear this sob story, do you?"

"I'll listen to anything you have to say, Gilbert," he assured the Prussian. "But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. You can keep your secrets." Hesitantly, he reached out to touch the back of his hand, noticing when Gilbert shied away from the contact. "You can keep as many secrets as you want."

Dull, red eyes fixed themselves on Roderich's. After a moment's hesitation, he continued. "The monster was a water demon. One day, the queen accidentally discovered her true form. Upon seeing her, blue skin and seaweed tangled in her hair, the queen screamed.

"Desperate to hide her secret, the demon took the queen to the Crystal Lake. She-" He broke off, panic temporarily shattering his calm mask. "The monster drowned the queen, and took the body for her own.

"What no one had realized is that the demon had craved power. No one noticed her slowly moving up the social ranks. Naturally, the best thing for her to do would be to take over the queen's body, and rule.

"The monster returned to the court, and no one noticed the change. Well, no one except the queen's oldest son," he amended quietly. "He had seen plenty of demons. It was hard for one to hide from him."

Gilbert bit his lip. "But, the prince realized that he could do nothing about the monster without raising suspicion. So, he pretended he didn't see. The end."

Roderich scrutinized his expression. Eyes downcast, brows pulled together, and lips pressed into a thin line.

"Are you sure?" he prodded. "Is that really the end?"

"A story never ends, Specs," Gilbert answered. "But I don't think you want to know any more. I'm risking a lot telling you that much."

Roderich resisted the urge to tell him that no, he hadn't told him too much because he hadn't told him a damn thing. Instead, he agreed. "If that's what you want. I won't force you."

"Not like you could, anyways," he muttered.

"If I may ask, however," Roderich continued, pretending he didn't hear Gil's response. "Is there a particular reason you always end your stories in the middle? It's a bit irritating, to be honest."

"Because if I told you everything, you wouldn't believe me!" he snapped. "If I told you that the water demon tortured the oldest prince until he couldn't even remember his own name, you wouldn't believe it. If I cut myself off in the middle, at least there's a chance you'll see that I'm telling you the truth!"

Roderich stared in shock. He had forgotten that Gilbert had a temper. He hadn't seen it in two years? Longer than that, perhaps.

"I told you I'll believe you," he lied. "So, the prince was tortured by the monster?" he prompted, hoping to get Gilbert on a less destructive path.

All he received was a red-eyed glare. "Yeah."

"How? Did she-"

"Just shut up, Specs," Gilbert interrupted. A sharp bitterness cut through his once monotonous tone. "You think I'm crazy. Hell, I probably am, but that doesn't make me wrong. You don't care, and you don't believe me. Stop pretending like you fucking do, because it's pissing me off."

'Obviously,' the brunette thought with a slight grimace.

~X~

Roderich could sense the presence behind him as he read over a book on the Silesian War. It had been a gift from his mother, back when she actually came for the holidays. "What do you want?" he asked.

"It was drowning," Gilbert said.

Roderich almost dropped the heavy book in his hands at the complete randomness of the statement. Instead, he managed to retain his composure long enough for him to mark his page, and carefully set his book on the coffee table next to him. Only then did he look up at the man in front of him, a quizzical expression on his face.

He somehow looked better than he had in the two and a half hours since Roderich last looked at him. The fact that he wasn't a huddled mess on the floor was a definite improvement.

Gilbert stared at him impassively, as if daring the musician to refute his statement.

"What was drowning?" Roderich asked. He settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he scrutinized the other.

A quick grimace traipsed his face before settling back to a mildly defiant set. "You asked how the oldest prince was tortured. Drowning. Pay attention, princess."

He took a moment to try and gather a coherent train of thought. "I asked you that three hours ago."

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" Gilbert asked testily.

Roderich sighed. "Very well. Proceed."

"So, it didn't take long for the demon to figure out that the oldest prince knew her secret," he said without any preamble. "She took him to the Crystal Lake as well, just like his mother. The oldest prince realized that he was likely going to die, so he hid a note away where only the younger prince would find it. He did this in hopes that his brother could expose the monster after he died.

"But, instead of killing the prince," Gilbert broke off for a moment, and tried to hide a shiver. "She would submerge him in water until he nearly passed out. She would then pull him out of the water, and revive him. The demon repeated this process so many times that the prince couldn't even remember who he was, much less who she was."

Roderich's mouth dropped open of its own accord. But he quickly reminded himself that it was just a fairy tale, and that Gilbert was just acting crazy. 'Just like he always did,' he told himself. 'There is nothing unusual about this.'

"You don't believe me, do you?" Gilbert asked.

In that moment, he sounded incredibly old, yet obscenely young. It was a cross between a man who knew that no one would listen to him, and a child who just wanted someone to trust that he spoke the truth. In his eyes, he was pleading for Roderich to believe him, but the set of his mouth said that he realized it was a vain hope.

"I believe you," Roderich said.

"You're a liar." Gilbert shook his head slowly. "No one would believe me. Stop pretending like you do. It's not helping me, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then tell me how to help." He set a cold glare on the other. "You barely move; you haven't left this house since you got here. I haven't heard you laugh or say the word 'awesome' in almost a month. You actually don't even talk very often these days. It's gotten to the point where I feel like I have a ghost rather than you living here."

"You can help by telling me the truth. Be the one person who actually tells me stop the bullshit. Be _Roderich_ again; not this pansy 'let's pretend everything's all right' brat you've become!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for all of your support! I adore each and every one of you for reading this, reviewing this, and everything else ^^ You guys are all awesome. Awesome as Prussia.

Also, I apologize for how long it took me to get this out OTL I'll try to put up another chapter this weekend as an apology for making you all wait.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or any of the characters. They belong to Himaruya.

~X~

_Gilbert Beilschmidt  
_

~X~

Gil had successfully pissed off the brunette to a level he hadn't thought possible. And he learned that an angry Roderich does not always equal a cute Roderich. It could actually make the pianist absolutely terrifying, in his own way.

As in: don't eat the food because Roderich probably poisoned it. Like, legit. Gilbert refused to eat anything until he saw Roderich taste it first.

But, fear for the musician certainly didn't stop Gil from trying to push his luck. Especially considering how it seemed to put Roderich at ease when Gilbert acted like a brat.

That was really the goal of his recent experiment. To try and get Roderich to act normally again. The best path was proving to be pretending like nothing was wrong.

"Hey, Specs, do you have any paper?" he asked. Meaningless questions seemed the quickest way to irritate the brunette.

His expression remained perfectly impassive as Roderich continued to mark up some book. "I'm not letting you start a fire."

He had to fight to keep a grin off of his face. "I didn't ask for a lighter. C'mon, I'm sure you have some scrap paper lying around. Just let me use some."

Impassioned eyes rose to meet Gil's. "I remember what you were like. Given a single piece of paper, you will find a way to destroy my house, and more importantly, my piano. No."

Gil whistled lowly. "Talk about cruel, princess. People change, you know."

"You? I'm sure you haven't changed a bit since we met."

All right, that actually did hurt. A lot. "Yes I have," he muttered, forgetting his current mission of normalizing the situation. "You're the one who's still stuck in the past."

Roderich scoffed. "I'm not the one free-loading, and doing nothing productive. Unlike you, I have grown up."

His fists tensed. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that you are moping around my house like a child. You have been since April. You haven't shown any signs of actually getting over 'slaying the dragon', or whatever you were doing. I, on the other hand, dealt with your disappearance, and moved on with my life."

"I was fighting a monster, and you haven't moved on from anything. Mister I've-never-had-any-problems-in-my-life," he added under his breath.

Violet eyes hardened. "Don't you dare pretend you know anything about me, or my past. I would request that you stay away from that topic in the future."

'Oh, super-fancy-talk? Must have struck a nerve,' he thought with malicious satisfaction. "Or what? Are you going to nag at me? Maybe kick me out? Because I've told you from the start that I'll leave the second you say 'go'."

"Then I will be forced to unveil your every secret. Everything you have tried to hide from me, I will find. Don't think that I can't; we both know that I know you better than anyone."

That unnerved Gilbert to no end. The idea that someone could see past his evasions, and his half-truths. Of course, he quickly put that idea out of his mind. No one paid close enough attention for that.

"You know nothing."

"I know enough," Roderich countered. "And I have the resources to find out everything you wish to hide from me. If nothing else, don't forget that."

In the back of his mind, Giblet wondered how exactly the conversation had turned to this. "Weren't you going to give me paper?" he asked, remembering the roots of their discussion. "I kind of need some."

"Then go out and buy it yourself. I don't see how this is my problem."

~X~

Gilbert ended up stealing some of Roderich's sheet music. He hoped that the pianist wouldn't miss his copy of Tristesse.

And if he did, there was a good chance that Roderich had it memorized anyways. He played Chopin way too much not to have some of it memorized.

On the back of one of the pages, he started writing out a few things that Roderich needed to know.

_My stories aren't bullshit. You would know that if you would actually listen instead of staring at me like I'm a moron. Yeah, I see that look. Don't think I'm stupid.  
_

_When you look at me, I don't think you actually see me. Especially since you said I haven't changed in the past six years. I mean seriously? Were you not paying attention at all?  
_

_But, I'm getting off-topic.  
_

_I actually am doing this for a reason. If you won't listen to me, maybe if you'll read this you'll believe me.  
_

_That first monster I told you about? He used to be a nice person until the prince came along. The oldest prince, mind you. But, that doesn't mean that the oldest prince screwed up, or that the monster had an excuse. When push comes to shove, the monster still tortured the prince for over a year.  
_

_The second monster was actually more fiction than real, though. I'll give you that much. But the queen did change. She just sort of turned into a monster in her own right, because I swear that the torture was real. The fact that the prince survived was a miracle in itself.  
_

_There was a reason the youngest prince was going to be king instead of his older brother. The King hated the oldest prince. Always had.  
_

_Oh, and one last thing. I really did try to keep my promise to you. Honestly. But the monster kinda broke my arm for trying. It's a miracle he set it right, otherwise how the hell would I hide that from you?  
_

_And before you freak out, yes I would hide it from you. Hell, you'd be surprised at how much I'm hiding from you. And if things go according to plan, you will never find out.  
_

~X~

Specs didn't have a lighter in his house. But he certainly had plenty of matches.

Gilbert held the burning page in his hands, watching his words slowly turn into ash.

It was a mistake to write it. Roderich didn't need to know any of that. That had been his original reason for not telling him stories anyways.

What the priss didn't know couldn't hurt him.

It was a bit pathetic how that had come to be his philosophy since Gilbert had met him. But, the guy was fragile, so it was only normal for Gil to keep some painful secrets from him.

Like, Specs didn't need to know why Gilbert had rarely showed up to school. He didn't need to know about the hospital visits, or the ridiculous work hours that were forced on him.

The entire page had been dissolved into nothing but a pile of dark gray on the floor.

Roderich didn't need to know, he thought as he swept it up into his hands. And, if he could manage it, Roderich would never find out.

~X~

"Once upon a time, there was a kingdom."

It always started out like that. Ever since Gilbert was a child, that's how every story started. 'Once upon a time'.

Roderich was watching something outside the window, and likely not paying attention. But, Gilbert didn't really care. So long as he was there, Gil was going to speak.

"The kingdom had two princes', one older, and the other younger. But, the King was worried about the oldest prince. He was strong; perhaps too strong to rule. Or, that's what the King always thought.

"In an effort to protect his people, the King decided to take drastic action." Hesitantly, Gil looked up to Roderich.

No one other than Gilbert would have noticed that Roderich had tensed up, and that his eyes had narrowed slightly. The changes were subtle, just like they always were. Gilbert used to think he was basically emotionless until he started looking closer.

Barely taking a moment to consider this, Gil continued. "He locked his oldest son in the highest tower, believing that he could never escape. The King never wanted the prince among the common folk, because he feared what may happen.

"You see, the King thought that the oldest prince, because he was stronger, was dangerous to the general population. He thought he was doing the right thing."

"Let me guess, this is where the story ends," Roderich said flatly, still not looking over to the albino.

"No."

This caused a quizzical frown to cross the musician's face for a brief moment as he finally turned to face Gilbert. "You're actually going to finish a story for once?"

Gil chuckled dryly. "What did I tell you about stories ending? They don't. But I'll tell you more. I've told you about almost everyone involved in my two year adventure. But I haven't told you about the princess.

"The oldest prince knew he had to escape, but he wasn't sure how. But, one day he happened to see a foreign princess outside his tower window. She was beautiful beyond compare."

"And this is relevant to the prince being locked away?"

Gilbert scoffed. "If the princess hadn't walked by, then the prince wouldn't have escaped. might have been a good thing. Once the prince had broken out of the tower, all hell broke loose. All the monsters came out of hiding, and all former alliances between the kingdoms were shattered.

"So, if the princess had just stayed home that day, then the youngest prince wouldn't have had to go to the neighboring kingdom, and wouldn't have been captured by the monster."

Roderich rolled his eyes. "Leave it to you to blame a poor princess for the misfortunes of an entire kingdom. So how did the princess help the prince escape?" As soon as he spoke those words, Roderich flushed a pale pink. "Not that I care."

Gil tipped his head to the side, and tried to figure out how to respond. It's not like he could tell Roderich the truth, after all. It was all about telling careful lies.

"Because the princess gave the oldest prince hope that there was something better than the tower he had always been confined to. Sometimes, hope is all you need to figure out what you need to do."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Ok, so getting out two chapters in one weekend failed... I'm sorry OTL But, I made this chapter a bit longer than usual, hoping that you won't be angry at me. *hides* Don't hate me! I'm so sorry I failed to keep my promise.

On another note, thanks to everyone for reading this. And reviewing it, and adding it to alerts. Seriously, guys. I want to hug each and every one of you. This is my first time actually doing this kind of thing, so for it to be so well received... *holds out cookies* I made these with all my love, just for you~

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or its characters. They're Himaruya. Only the plot sort of belongs to me.

~X~

_Roderich Edelstein  
_

~X~

Roderich realized that he might be willing to believe that Gilbert was telling the truth. Or, some twisted version of it, at least. Gilbert may have been known to make up some weird things, but it was starting to reach the point where there were just too many stories. It was too much for some stupid whim.

But, the problem was figuring out where the truth was in the rambling bits of nonsense.

A few things, however, were certain. The oldest prince was Gilbert. That was a fact. And Gil had explicitly stated that the youngest prince was Ludwig.

If Roderich were to follow this train of thought that would mean the queen was his mother and the king his father. He didn't know much about Gil's family, but he knew that his parents divorced shortly before his family moved here.

It was likely that the last story had been about his father abusing him. Well, assuming that the story _was_ true. Perhaps that would be why the Beilschmidt's came here, then. Considering how much Gil complained about it for the first year or so, it would make sense.

He had successfully identified half of the fairytale characters. The only questionable characters were the two monsters, and the princess.

It was entirely possible that the water demon was a step-mother of sorts. Gil never talked about his father, but he supposed that it was possible that the man had remarried. But the ice one was a complete mystery. Someone from Germany, perhaps? He was sure it was no one he had ever met.

The princess was likely Elizaveta. He couldn't think of any other girl that Gil associated with on a regular basis. No one else Roderich could see Gil falling for.

His fingers tensed at the idea.

Much as he hated to admit it, the thought of that irked the pianist. Roderich didn't like the idea of the albino being in love with the Hungarian.

'They were fairytales,' he reminded himself in an attempt to calm down. There's no way that any of these people or events were true. These stories were nothing more than a coping mechanism of sorts.

'That doesn't explain the panic attack,' he thought. 'Besides, Gil's not creative enough to think of this on his own.'

Roderich was left to grapple with truth, and fiction on his own. Gilbert was unlikely to tell a coherent truth on the matter.

Unsure of what else to do, he took out a worn-out notebook, and started writing these things down. Otherwise, he wasn't sure if he would actually believe this later.

~X~

Gilbert was found in the main sitting room. Roderich was surprised to see him outside of the music room, but decided that now was not the time to comment on that.

"Why did your parents divorce?" Roderich asked, trying to make the question sound off-handed.

Gil shot him a questioning look. "Mom didn't like the way he treated me," he answered bluntly. "Didn't I tell you that the King locked the prince in the tower? I'm surprised they stayed together for as long as they did."

"So that's a true story?"

"I wouldn't lie about that kind of thing." Gil's mouth twisted into a disgusted grimace. "I may omit some finer details, but I'm not going to tell you something that didn't happen."

"You lie all the time," Roderich pointed out.

"But not about something this serious."

Roderich sighed, and adjusted his glasses. It was difficult to argue with that logic, as twisted as it was.

~X~

Roderich managed to pull some strings and get his hands on some old medical records of Gilbert's.

It may have taken quite a bit of his parent's money, but it wasn't like they knew or cared.

He only got the records from when Gilbert was still in Germany. It would arouse too much suspicion to try and get the ones from here. Not to mention the amount of money and bribery that would likely entail.

It was a rather large file, and with a sigh, Roderich started to flip through the pages.

Between the ages of seven and fourteen, Gilbert had been admitted to the E.R. exactly thirty-seven times. He had his fingers broken twenty-three times, seven concussions, broken his legs five times, and a myriad of other injuries that Roderich couldn't read.

He didn't even get half-way through the file before having to put it away.

'Minor details' his ass. Gilbert mentioned neglect. But from what Roderich was finding out, there was full-on abuse going on.

But, if Gilbert had been telling a bit of truth in his last story... Roderich shuddered at the thought of what Gil might have been trying to say about in the other stories.

He could accept that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth. That maybe his fairytales were more than just stories.

~X~

Gil had started avoiding the music room recently. It was now taking longer for the musician to find him. However, since he still didn't leave the house, it was possible to find him within ten minutes. Providing Roderich didn't get lost in the maze of hallways, of course.

"That ice-demon," Roderich started. "Would you tell me more about him?"

Gil looked over from the bookshelves lining the wall. "What do you want to know?" he asked warily.

'Well, at least he hasn't said 'no' yet,' Roderich thought. "Why did he take the prince hostage? Was it random, or was there a reason?"

Gil shrugged, and turned back to the stacks of hardcover books. "The Kingdom of Spades had wronged the other Kingdom. The monster took the prince as a form of revenge. He had a sense of loyalty that was actually quite impressive."

"What happened?" he asked. Hesitantly, he took a seat on one of the red velvet chairs furnishing the room.

"Do you really care?" Gil returned. He carefully kept his back turned to the pianist. "You don't believe a word I'm saying. Why are you asking all these questions?"

Roderich made sure to keep his face blank. Even if Gil couldn't see his expression now, he didn't want to risk it if he were to suddenly turn around. "No reason. If you're going to tell a story, however, it would be nice to know the antagonist had a reason to act the way they did."

There was a moment of silence between them as Gil chose a book from the shelves. "I'll answer your question if you tell me why you have this book," he bargained. "No, I'll answer four shorter questions. But only if you tell me why you have this. Deal?"

Roderich didn't have to think twice. He was sure that there were no 'questionable' books in this place. Nothing that Gilbert could hold against him for owning. "Very well. Would you like to ask or answer first?"

"You can ask two questions before you have to answer mine. The last two only after you've explained in full why you own this."

The way Gil was speaking, Roderich was beginning to wonder exactly what he had found. "All right. So explain to me why the prince was going to the other kingdom if they had a falling out."

Gil opened the book, and slowly started to flip through pages. "To try and make the wrong right. He didn't want his kingdom to suffer for the mistakes of his family. Next question."

Roderich pursed his lips. Either he or his parents must have done something wrong, then. He was very staunch on Ludwig's innocence. "What was the wrong that he was supposed to fix?"

He could see Gil's shoulders tense up. "Trespassing," he answered after a brief lapse of silence. "The oldest prince went there without permission. You aren't supposed to do that. People die when they go where they aren't supposed to." After a shaky breath, Gil turned with a forced smirk on his lips. "So mind explaining why you have this?" he asked, holding up the book in question.

All the color drained from Roderich's face. He forgot he owned that. "N-no reason," he lied. "Just something that Elise-I mean, my mother got for me."

Gil's grin widened, and turned more genuine. "Your mommy bought you a book on Prussian history for no reason, huh? I find that very believable, Specs."

"Shut up," he hissed, turning bright red. "I was curious, ok? You always going on about 'Prussia this', and 'Prussia that'. I wanted to know if it was really worth ranting about for hours. It's not, by the way."

Gil raised a brow and flipped through pages. "You actually read all of it? This thing is fucking huge."

The answer was 'yes'. A very, very painful 'yes'. Roderich had agonized over it for months, trying to figure out why the albino was so obsessed with this dead country.

But, Gilbert didn't need to know that.

"I answered your question, now forget about it," he said instead. "I still have two more questions that need answers."

He shrugged. "Go for it, Specs. By the way, Prussia_ is_ awesome, and you're just too much of a priss to see it. Overloads your senses and all."

Roderich had to fight back the retort. He was making progress with Gil, and didn't want to destroy it by starting another fight. "How did the prince think he was going to fix the tension between the kingdoms?"

Gil set the book on the small cherry table next to Roderich's chair and turned back to the shelves. "The younger prince thought that if he could explain to the other King why his brother did what he did, then the Spades would be forgiven. The oldest prince realized that it was going to be useless, because there wasn't much of an excuse. Last question, use it wisely."

There were a lot of things Roderich could have asked. There were a lot of things that he should have asked. He could have demanded that Gilbert tell him why he chose his house to return to, or what the oldest prince's reason for trespassing was.

Instead, he ended up asking the stupidest thing he could think. "You mentioned there was a princess..." he started hesitantly. His cheeks heated as he realized he was actually going to ask this. "What... What did she look like?"

There were a lot of reactions he expected from Gilbert. Loud, obnoxious laughter was the highest on that list, followed closely by relentless mocking.

But he didn't expect Gil to turn and look at the brunette with something almost wistful in his eyes. Slowly, he looked over every inch of the seated brunette, as if he would find his answer there. Then, he raised his gaze to meet Roderich's

They remained frozen like that for a moment, crimson eyes locked on violet. The tension seemed to intensify with each tick of the clock.

Roderich felt himself tense up, and his breath quickened. Why was he taking so long to respond? Why wasn't the albino teasing him relentlessly? His cheeks warmed, much to his chagrin.

Finally, Gilbert closed his eyes, and smiled softly. "The princess was a brunette. She had beautiful eyes, and the way she spoke... It was like poetry. Everything about her was just beautiful."

Something inside Roderich's mind shattered. 'Of course,' he thought bitterly. Gil had fallen for Elizaveta, just as he had suspected. He was certain of that the moment the word 'brunette' passed his lips.

~X~

It was almost three in the morning, and Roderich still couldn't sleep. He had spent the last several hours tossing and turning, trying to clear his head, and it just wasn't working.

Earlier, after Gilbert had answered his four questions, Roderich had returned to the medical files to try and forget what he had learned.

The only thing that had done was add to the list of things he wished he never found out.

He found more broken bones, and a few more concussions he overlooked the first time, and he even found out about two or three lacerations to the albino's torso.

It made him absolutely sick to think about.

Finally, Roderich decided to fix this as best he could. He tossed off the thin covers, and carefully traversed the hallways, trailing his fingers on the walls. He had to see Gilbert. It didn't matter if he was awake or not, he just needed to see with his own eyes.

He needed to remember that Gilbert wasn't just a file with an audacious number of pages. He needed to see the man behind the injuries, and reassure himself that he was actually ok.

The hardwood floors were almost loud beneath his bare feet, though he tried to walk as silently as he could. It seemed like forever before he was in front of his destination. Though, it had barely been two minutes, in reality.

The doorknob was cool in his hand as he turned it. As quietly as he could, he pushed the music room door open.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting. Maybe he was thinking he would see every bruise, every broken bone he had been reading about. Or perhaps Gilbert having a panic attack over something again. Roderich wasn't entirely sure.

Instead, he found a seemingly unscathed Gilbert asleep on the floor; a cocoon of blankets and pillows piled around him.

He let out a soft sigh of relief. His worries had been completely unfounded, and ridiculous.

Unthinkingly, he ventured further into the room until he was less than a foot away from the sleeping man. A soft smile graced his lips, until he saw it.

Gilbert wasn't as unscathed as he had originally thought. Dozens of scars littered his bare back, barely visible in the darkened room.

Roderich's blood ran cold. The reports he had read included bruises, black eyes, concussions, broken bones, and maybe three cuts to his front. There had been nothing he found that would incur that amount of scarring.

Granted, he didn't know how much damage his father created in the last year of his parent's marriage. Although, this level of damage seemed more extreme. It couldn't have been done by one man in that short a time span.

Given two years though, and possibly two people... Roderich shuddered at the thought. It was entirely possible.

As silently as he entered, Roderich walked down to the kitchen to find some sort of distraction. He doubted he would sleep peacefully tonight.

Perhaps, Roderich realized, he was omitting just as much about his monsters as he did his father.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry for taking so long to get this out. I know I say that a lot, but I really mean it! Life's been a bit hectic, and I apologize… I'll try really hard to keep updating every week, and no more of this 'week and a half between chapters'.

Thank you to everyone for reading this, reviewing this, adding it to their alerts, and favorites…. Thank you all for everything you do!

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to Himaruya.

~X~

_Gilbert Beilschmidt  
_

~X~

Something was going on with Roderich. Gil could tell. All the sudden he was asking four thousand questions, and seemed to actually pay attention to his words?

That wasn't normal. Gilbert could see as plain as day that Roderich hadn't cared about his stories. Well, until now, at least.

The only issue was Gilbert couldn't figure out what had changed. He couldn't put his finger on the problem.

He watched the brunette like a hawk as Roderich slowly ate his dinner. Gilbert's food remained completely untouched before him. He was too absorbed in the other's motions to even consider eating.

Roderich seemed to notice this, and he motioned to the still-full plate. "I haven't poisoned it, if that's what's worrying you."

Gil's eyes narrowed. "I know that. I'm not a complete moron."

"I don't believe I called you one," he returned diplomatically.

It didn't matter if he said it or not. The albino was well aware of what Roderich thought of him. His actions spoke louder than any words Roderich did or did not say.

Once again, Gilbert looked up from the table to appraise the brunette. His posture was perfect as ever, and his face was a mask of polite indifference like it usually was. Behind his glasses shone violet eyes. Just shades darker than _his.  
_

Gilbert's mind quickly made several connections between his monster, and the one in front of him. Once that first similarity had been discovered, a floodgate seemed to open in his brain.

Cold, violet eyes that Gil struggled to read. Rather indifferent attitudes towards the world outside their personal lives. Sometimes the way Roderich spoke, it was as if he were specifically targeting his words towards Gilbert in a way to hurt as much as he could. Ivan used to do the exact same thing.

The more similarities his sleep-deprived brain came up with, the closer he scrutinized the brunette.

Finally, those flat eyes rose to meet Gil's and a quick frown broke his expressionless face. "Gilbert, will you stop staring? It's rather rude."

Roderich's lilting voice broke through his mental ramblings long enough for Gil to realize he was being paranoid. "Sorry," he muttered, returning to the cooling food in front of him.

~X~

Gilbert couldn't sleep. He could blame the fact that it was too damn hot in Roderich's house, or the fact that he was sleeping on a hard floor. However, neither of those reasons were the truth.

He wouldn't admit that it was nightmares that kept him from resting. Fear prevented him from closing his eyes for more than a few moments.

Somehow, he had been surviving like this for the better part of three days. He hadn't slept since he had told Roderich about the princess.

It was nearly pitch-black in the music room. Four a.m. found Gilbert staring at the ceiling, nowhere near sleep. One hand lightly gripped the charm around his neck while he tried to persuade himself that he was being delusional.

However, he couldn't seem to convince himself that Roderich wasn't acting like Ivan had before everything spiraled out of control. He couldn't push all the similarities out of his mind.

Those cold, violet eyes were haunting him. Try as he might, Gilbert couldn't seem to get away from them.

As these thoughts passed his mind, he heard the soft sound of a doorknob turning. It was prolonged, as if whoever was on the other side was attempting to be as quiet as possible.

Gilbert felt his muscles tense automatically. His hold on the necklace tightened, and he rolled himself into a crouch in case he needed to attack.

The door was pushed open gently, and a half-awake Roderich was revealed to the exhausted Prussian.

"You're still awake?" Roderich asked. He took half a step backwards, closing the door about two inches.

Crimson eyes narrowed at the musician's silhouette. "Get out," Gilbert snapped. "What the hell are you doing here Specs?"

He heard a soft sigh from the other. "You've been acting strangely the last few days and I was worried. I apologize for disturbing you."

Gilbert glared at the darkened figure. "You're not sorry," he accused. "You…. You're just like _him_. You don't feel bad about anything."

"Gilbert, will you just tell me what's bothering you? You're being irrational." Roderich had stepped into the room, turning on the bright overhead lights.

The sudden brightening hurt Gil's eyes. Wincing slightly, he shielded them from the sudden light. "Turn those stupid things off; are you trying to blind me?" he hissed.

Just as quickly as he had flicked them on, the brunette flipped the switch back off. Gil couldn't sense any apology from Roderich's quiet humming. "Who is 'him', by the way?" he asked. "The king?"

Blindly, Gilbert glared in Roderich's direction. "The monster," he corrected darkly. "I can see it. You're eyes… They're dead, just like his." He took a shaky breath. "You're dead inside, just like he is," Gil accused softly.

He heard a half-amused, half-disappointed sigh. "Then what does that make you?" Roderich asked.

Gilbert stared at him dumbfounded. "W-what?" he asked softly. Had Roderich seriously just….?

Without further response, Roderich closed the door as he left Gil's makeshift bedroom. He could almost hear the sound of Roderich's bare feet against the hardwood floors as he retreated.

~X~

Gil watched out of the corner of his eye as Roderich entered the study. A grimace turned his lips, but he kept silent.

"I wanted to speak with you," he said. Formality permeated Roderich's tone, just like when they were teenagers. "I understand if you do not wish to, but I'm afraid that I cannot just stay silent about this."

"Talk all you want, but don't expect me to care," he returned coolly.

Contrarily, Gil was actually rather curious about what Roderich had to say. He would only revert to this sort of uptight behavior around Gil when he was nervous.

Roderich sighed quietly, and went to stand in front of the bookshelves. The same bookshelves, he noted, that Gil had been standing in front of a few days ago. "I understand that you're angry with me," he started. "You think that I'm being a brat, that I'm being rude, and that I have absolutely no idea what it's like for you. You think I'm a trust-fund kid who never had any problems."

Gilbert didn't argue. He didn't think the priss was being bratty, or any ruder than usual, but he also didn't think that Roderich was looking for a response.

Roderich took a shaky breath, and slid his glasses to rest on top of his head. "Can I tell you a story? As repayment for all the ones you told me?" He turned to face Gilbert. His brow was furrowed in almost worry, but he still managed to keep that composed half-smile.

This was serious, Gil realized. Mutely, he nodded and swore to keep close track of the musician's expressions and mannerisms. He was supposed to be protecting the priss; even if he was probably plotting his demise as he spoke.

Roderich chuckled bitterly. "No need to look panicked. It's not nearly as dramatic as any of your stories. I just wanted to tell you about one of my old teachers.

"My parents hired her when I was a teenager. A few years after we arrived here, actually." His smile shifted slightly, looking a bit more forced. "She thought I was 'special'. That I was 'going places'."

Gilbert could almost hear things snapping into place. The special emphasis's he placed… "Did she….?" he asked quietly, unsure of how to finish that sentence. He didn't want to frame that possibility.

Dark eyes flitted to his for a brief moment before sliding to the space over his shoulder. "It's not what you think," he said. "It… We weren't like that."

Gil let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Then what was it like?" he prodded.

Roderich's fingers tensed. "You need to understand that my parents didn't know what was going on. They were usually in Austria for work during this time."

'More like your parents abandoned you here to live by yourself when you were a kid,' Gil mentally corrected. He had yet to meet Roderich's parents, or even see them outside a photograph.

"She thought I was going to be a wonderful musician one day.'Talent to rival Mozart', she used to say." Contempt rang through his tone. "But, her words didn't precisely match her actions. If she thought I was that good, I doubt she would have me playing for ten hours a day."

Ten… Wait, what? Ten hours a _day_?! That wasn't possible. Was it?

Roderich looked down at his hands, still slightly clenched. They were shaking slightly. "I wasn't aware of how difficult it is to remove blood from everything until that point," he said ruefully. "I can't tell you how many times I had to change strings on my violin because of that."

Blood on the strings… He suddenly remembered the bandages on Roderich's fingertips. They were a constant ever since the two had met. Gilbert held up a hand. "I'm going to stop you right there."

He was starting to feel a bit ill. How had he not put that together? The fear in Roderich's eyes, the constant wrappings on his hands, combined with that impossibly difficult sheet music…. Looking back now, it should have been so obvious.

"That's not really your choice," Roderich contradicted. "Unless you have a plan to physically silence me, you're going to listen to this. Do you understand?"

That glare had no place in Roddy's eyes. "You're starting to freak me out, Specs," Gil said. "Can we just—"

"Gilbert, just shut up for a moment," he snapped. "I have to listen to you talk about monsters, and tortures, and now I'm expecting you to do the same for me."

With a sigh, he nodded slightly. In the back of his mind, Gil wondered if this was how Roderich felt whenever he told his stories.

Roderich took a shaky breath before he continued to tell Gilbert about his old tutor. A Miss Cora Mitchells.

He had to endure listening to Roderich talk about how every missed note would equal an extra thirty minutes. How there were days when Roderich would be forced to play from when he got home until he left for school the next morning.

He mentioned how sometimes, if he missed enough notes, Miss Cora would take a blade and cut one of his fingers. Then Roderich would have to keep playing without even the chance to wrap the injury.

Throughout the telling, his breath started to hitch, and his hands developed slight tremors. It unnerved Gil to no end to see the ever-composed musician lose his cool to this level.

"Honestly, it took almost three years of anyone to notice that something was even remotely wrong. You, actually" he admitted. "Within one week you were asking me about it, when people who had known me for years had ignored it."

Gil's vision suddenly focused on the brunette at this statement. "When did I say anything about that? I didn't have a damn clue that any of this happened."

With a wry smile, Roderich raised a hand and wiggled his fingers. "You asked about the bandages. I think you said something like: 'Yo Specs! What the fuck is up with the damned Band-Aids on your hands all the time?'" He chuckled; seemingly back to his normal self. "That's why I quit taking lessons, you see. I figured no one noticed, or cared, so what was the harm?

"But you… I thought if you ever found out, heads would probably roll. By the time you asked, I'm pretty sure you had already gotten in a fist-fight with Francis over something or other."

Gilbert stared blankly at the musician. Was Roderich insinuating he would have continued to endure the wrath of Miss Bitch if he had never come along?

The possibility that he may have changed a life so drastically by one comment… He wondered if it was possible if Roderich would one day return the favor, and say something that would make Gil feel like he was worth saving.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Erm… I got this up rather quickly. I mean, compared to usual ^^; But, that's probably because it's considerably shorter than my previous chapters, so I'm sorry about that.

Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorited, read, etc.; every little notice seriously makes my day~ I adore each and every one of you *bakes each of you a cake*

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or its characters.

~X~

_Roderich Edelstein  
_

~X~

"You realize I can't make him go home, right?" Roderich asked into the phone's receiver.

He had called the Beilschmidt home in order to confirm some of his suspicions and get more information. Somehow, he ended up trying to tell Ludwig that he couldn't bring his older brother back to him.

"But he listens to you," Ludwig argued. "Can you at least try?" It was obvious he was at his wits end; why, Roderich wasn't sure.

Roderich pursed his lips. "Your brother doesn't listen to a word I say," he retorted. If anything, Gilbert was more likely to listen to Ludwig; memory served, the Prussian would go to the ends of the earth for his younger brother.

"Yes he does!" His voice was beginning to turn into a plea. "Roderich, we need him home. I can't take much more of this, and he _promised_."

"Ludwig, get a hold of yourself," he snapped. "This isn't like you. What's going on?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know," he said. "Gil's always going on about how 'smart' you are; how 'observant' you are. Don't pretend like you don't know what's going on."

"You're beginning to act just as paranoid as your brother. That's not a good thing, Ludwig," Roderich commented dryly. "Look, if it will help, I'll talk to him about it. Though, I doubt he leave just because I ask him to." 'He never has before,' he thought.

To be honest, Roderich still wasn't sure if he wanted Gil to leave. Or, to be more accurate, he wasn't sure why he _didn't_ want him to leave. Was he still hoping for the truth? Was he just trying to protect him from whatever was scaring him so thoroughly? Or… Did it run deeper than that? Something he didn't dare put into words, even in his own mind?

While lost in thought, he almost missed Ludwig's relieved response. "Thank you, Roderich. And, sorry for… I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. There's no way you could know."

'Because neither of you Beilschmidt boys can give me a straight answer,' he thought disdainfully. "It's no trouble," he said. "Now, there's a reason I called. I had a few questions about your father, if that's all right."

Ludwig snorted. "I wouldn't exactly call him our 'father', but go ahead."

Roderich's theory on parental abuse just kept getting stronger. He tapped a pencil against his open notebook. "Gilbert mentioned something about being locked up?" he started, unsure if he should bring out the violence right off the bat.

"He's been telling stories again, hasn't he?" Ludwig deadpanned. After a moment, he sighed. "Yeah. Our father used to shove him in the cellar for days at a time. Used to say that he was a freak that the world didn't need to see."

To say Roderich was shocked would be an understatement. The fact that the blond teen was so straightforward about something so wrong was unsettling.

"But that's not what you wanted to ask, was it?" Ludwig countered. "You want to know if he used to beat my brother, don't you?"

"What? No, I—"

"Because he did," he interrupted. "Gilbert's been having nightmares again, hasn't he? There's no way that he would just tell you about that straight up. Or… Can you actually understand his stories?"

Roderich unconsciously started doodling on the margins of the page as he thought about that. Sometimes, he thought he perfectly understood what Gil was trying to say. Other times, it was like he was speaking ancient Greek. "Has he always told them?"

"My brother has always liked fairytales," Ludwig hedged. "He's been telling them since we were children. Back in Germany, they were always about mysterious lands and monsters. When we moved here, it was all about some foreign princess, and a prince. Is he back to monsters then?"

Again with the princess, Roderich thought. "Yes. Do you know who they are? He's mentioned three."

"Our father, our mother, and Mr. Winter," he replied promptly. "Or, the King, the 'water demon', and the 'ice demon', respectively."

It took a moment before Roderich would ask another question. He was writing down names.

So, he had been wrong about the water demon… He had been sure that it was a step-mother. Now he had to add that to the list of stories he needed to figure out.

"Mr. Winters?" he repeated, realizing he didn't actually know the name. "I'm not sure I know who that is."

"You wouldn't. We knew him back in Germany; Gilbert was close friends with his son, Ivan."

Another name Roderich never heard before. Now that he thought about it, Roderich knew astonishingly little about Gilbert, despite the amount of time they spent together. "So, why is Mr. Winters a monster? Or, why would Gilbert mention him now?"

He heard a noncommittal hum from Ludwig. "Let's just say our poor excuse for a father was better than Ivan's. He didn't like his son having any friends, and I know that Ivan used to come to school with more cuts than bandages.

"Now that I think of it… The injuries used to coincide with the timing of Gilbert's 'visits', if you call breaking and entering 'visiting'."

Well, now Roderich knew why Ludwig never batted an eye when those charges were brought against his brother. Perhaps he thought it was normal. "What are you suggesting?"

"I wouldn't put it past Mr. Winters to beat his son for disobeying the 'no friends' rule," he said bluntly.

'The oldest prince was trespassing,' he remembered. That's why Gilbert was punished, then? He tried to go see his friend, and then the father snaps?

That seemed rather irrational, in Roderich's opinion. Then again, so did everything else Gilbert said. And almost all of that has been proving true, lately.

"Do you have any other questions, or can I hang up?" Ludwig asked, breaking the other's train of thought. "I have to leave for work soon."

Roderich flushed slightly. It wasn't like him to space out like that. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Good-bye, Ludwig."

~X~

Roderich made sure to hide the notebook where Gilbert wouldn't find it. Gil was starting to act somewhat normal again, and Roderich didn't want him to go paranoid again.

Shuffling multiple piles of sheet music around, he finally managed to hide the thing in the piano bench. It wasn't like Gil spent much time in this room anymore, anyways.

With that mindless task completed, he had to get to the real work: finding out who this Mr. Winters character was.

It didn't take long to get the internet up, and multiple search sites open. To be blunt, he didn't have that much to go on. He couldn't be certain he even had a real name. A vague age and location, but that was really it.

But, money buys secrets. That was the only useful thing his parents had taught him. When the internet failed, he could always go back to the people who got him Gilbert's medical file.

If the albino knew what he could possibly dredge up, he doubted that he would ever cross the musician. Although, just because he could do something didn't mean he necessarily would.

The phone was raised once more to his ear, and the unfamiliar number was dialed. "I need information on a Mr. Winters," he stated, not even bothering with a greeting. "He would be approximately my father's age, and living near the boy whose information you gathered earlier. He would have a son named Ivan."

The generic response from the woman on the other line didn't even catch Roderich's attention. He knew that any information the agency managed to garner would be sent directly to him within a fortnight.

That's how it always worked with his father, at least.

~X~

If the previous file made him feel sick, it didn't even remotely compare to what this one entailed. This one may not have been as large or as detailed, but the added information he had brought a special context to every word.

Mr. Winters, or Winters Braginski, was a life-long drunkard who fathered three children, two daughters and a son. When his wife finally left, he managed to keep his son in his custody.

From there, Roderich found a list of arrests, and rehab stints. There was even a mention of a psych ward.

Winters was looking more and more viable for the role of Gilbert's captor with each passing page.

The few mentions of Ivan were chilling to say the least. Several hospital stints for severe injuries ranging from stabs to a collapsed lung, a few escapades in foster homes, and the constant returning back to his father.

Just when Roderich finally thought that he had the person responsible for Gilbert's disappearance, he flipped through the last page. Those four words completely destroyed every single thought of finishing with this monster business.

_'Deceased August 19th, 2007.'_


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Just so you guys are warned, there's a bit of RusPru in this chapter because… Well, I ship it, and it's relevant-ish. But, it's only for a while, and it will go right back to PruAus either half way through this chapter, or in the next one. Don't be alarmed, and please don't hate me.

Again, thank you all for reading this, for putting it on your alerts, and for reviewing ^^ It means a lot to see you guys enjoy this.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Hetalia, or its characters. They belong to Himaruya; I just took the characters and twisted them to my will.

~X~

_Gilbert Beilschmidt  
_

~X~

_"Stay away from me, Ivan," Gilbert warned as the other slowly edged closer. Somehow, he managed to curl in on himself without falling forward. Everything was cramped and hurt; he hadn't been out of this room in almost a year.  
_

_"I'm not going to hurt you," Ivan murmured. His hands were held up in a sign of surrender as he approached the broken albino.  
_

_His head snapped up to glare at the Russian. "I said get _back_," Gil snarled. "Don't come near me, Ivan, or I swear to God, I'll—"  
_

_"You'll what, Gilly?" Ivan sighed. "You're leg is busted, and you barely have the strength to sit up properly. Hush and let me help you."  
_

_Gilbert didn't remember agreeing. He honestly didn't. But, considering Ivan was soon behind him, tending to his deepest cuts, Gil must have. Or he didn't put up a fight, and Ivan took that as a 'yes'.  
_

_Cold fingers drifted down his still-bleeding back. "I really am sorry," he said conversationally. "I don't like hurting you. We've been friends for a long time." There was a quiet rustle, as Ivan searched through the first-aid bag.  
_

_"Friends don't hit friends with sink pipes," Gil deadpanned, trying not to wince as the rubbing alcohol went over the broken skin.  
_

_"Friends don't get friends sent to the hospital either, but we both know you've been doing that since we were seven," he replied smoothly. "Don't worry, though. I hold no grudge."  
_

_"Then why the hell am I here?" he growled. "If you're not mad at me, then why the hell do you have me chained in the basement?"  
_

_A light chuckle broke through the dark atmosphere for a moment. "You'll run away if I don't," he said simply. "If we are to be friends, then I can't have you leaving."  
_

_"You and I both know that's bullshit. Why am I here?" Gil could feel the needle as it pierced his skin. The thread as it tugged his skin back together.  
_

_Ivan hummed quietly. "Not yet, little rabbit," he eventually answered. "I will tell you later, but not now. Heal first, yes?" He placed a gentle kiss on the top of Gil's head, as if that would make everything better.  
_

_They sat in silence for a while as Ivan continued to tend to the wounds he had inflicted.  
_

_"Why are you doing this?" Gilbert finally asked as the taller man started wrapping gauze around his torso. "Why are you beating me, and then trying to fix me? It doesn't make any sense."  
_

_"Because I didn't mean to hurt you," he replied simply.  
_

_Gil shook his head slowly, remorsefully. If only that were true. "Yes you did. Ivan, just… Why? I don't get it."  
_

_Ivan moved so he was now sitting in front of the Prussian. "It's like you always used to say, Gilbert," he said with a sad smile. "The prince cannot understand the mind of the monster." As he spoke, his hands slid down Gil's leg, feeling where the bone was broken. With a grim frown, he looked up to meet Gil's questioning gaze. "This will hurt a bit. I need to set the bone so you can walk properly again."  
_

_"If you're going to keep me trapped down here, I really don't see the point," he muttered under his breath. Still, he braced himself for what was to come.  
_

_"Because you'll escape eventually," Ivan replied. "You are a 'prince', and that is what they do. But I want to know why that is. I will answer your 'why', if you will answer mine."  
_

_Gilbert closed his eyes tightly as Ivan started to re-set his bones. He could feel every centimeter Ivan forced it to move. Once he heard the sickening crack, Gilbert thought he was going to pass out. He felt like he might throw up.  
_

_"Fuck," he hissed. "Fine, fine, it's a deal! What's your question?"  
_

_"Why will you leave?" Ivan repeated as he started to wrap his leg so it wouldn't come out of place. "Or, who will you leave for? Not for your brother, I'm sure. And I know that you wouldn't leave this monster for the one who lives in your home. So, who are you leaving me for?"  
_

_In spite of everything that had transpired in this basement, despite his resentment for the Russian before him, Gilbert couldn't help but smile. It was weak, a mere shadow of what it used to be, but all the same…. "A princess," he breathed. "A beautiful princess with night-dark hair, ivory skin, and the most beautiful violet eyes you will ever see." For a moment, he fell silent. "I made a promise that I would return by the snowfall."  
_

_Lost in his reminiscing, Gilbert almost missed the hurt flash through Ivan's eyes. "Leave it to you," Ivan sighed. "Leave it to you to live an actual fairy tale, right down to the princess. It's already August."  
_

_They sat in silence for a while, before Gilbert asked, "So why are you keeping me here? I just came to offer my condolences for your father, and next thing I know, you gave me a concussion."  
_

_Ivan shook his head slowly. "There are many reasons, little rabbit," he said. "I thought you knew about how he died. I don't want to risk that getting out."  
_

_"Why else?" Gilbert pressed, harshly. "That can't be it. You know I can keep secrets with the best of them."  
_

_A sad smile twisted his lips. "I wanted to live a fairy tale too," he admitted. "The one we had been writing _before_."  
_

~X~

Gilbert woke up frozen. Usually after one of these dreams, he would instinctively flinch, or shy away. But today, he could do nothing but stare at the wall in front of him.

He had forgotten… Ivan used to be a prince in Gilbert's stories. And when they were younger, the two of them decided they were going to rule a kingdom together. A kingdom far away from their abusive fathers.

Tears pricked the back of his eyes. "The prince was cursed by a monster," he muttered to himself. "He would not get a happily ever after."

He took a shaky breath. This was always the hard part of the story, remembering the monster's side.

Because the monster had not always been a monster.

_"I thought he was going to kill me,"_ Ivan whispered. _"You understand, right? I didn't have another choice…."  
_

"I know," Gilbert answered. "I know, I get it, leave me alone."

He sighed heavily. He was starting to get really tired of these stories. Just like he was getting really tired of Roderich acting like he was nothing but an inconvenience. He could tell that Specs wanted him here. It was so easy to see.

Well, Roderich apparently didn't see. He could really be an idiot, considering how intelligent he was.

~X~

Roderich's house was too big. Gilbert kept forgetting about that. It was next to impossible to find the little priss sometimes. So, instead of going from door to door, Gil decided on a quicker method. "Roderich-I-need-to-talk-to-you!" Gilbert screamed at the top of his lungs.

From a few doors away, he heard a loud thud. "Don't shout in my house!" he heard the brunette yell back.

'Well, mission accomplished',' he decided with a smirk. "You're one to talk," he said as he opened the door to the music room. "What with you're shrieking and all."

The piano bench was overturned—likely the source of the 'thud'. Paper was scattered everywhere, and a disheveled Roderich was in the midst of the mess.

"Did you seriously fall off the bench?" Gil asked. "That's pushing clumsy, even for you."

The brunette flushed. "No, I didn't fall of the bench," he retorted. "Now why are you yelling in my house at this ungodly hour?"

Gil's brow furrowed in confusion. "It's almost noon, Specs," he stated.

Roderich stared blankly at him as he processed this information. Eventually, his wide-eyed gaze turned into a slight glare. "You have no idea how long I was up last night," he muttered darkly as he started to reorganize all of the sheet music scattered about. "If you're going to continue to stay here, at least sleep somewhere other than the piano room. I'm starting to lose it a bit, not being able to play whenever I please because you're in there."

"I want to tell you about how the prince escaped the monster's lair," Gilbert interjected. "If you'll listen, then you can put me in any damn room you want."

Roderich considered this for a moment. "You have to help me pick these up, too," he bargained. "Which monster and which prince are we talking about this time? I'm beginning to lose track."

With a shrug, he dropped to his knees. "The oldest prince and the ice monster. From the first story.

"As you remember, the oldest prince went with the monster to protect his brother, and make peace with its kingdom. For decades, he was in its lair, going through torture after torture. However, he endured them all silently.

"The only reason he did not speak was because he feared the monster would use his words against him. It had happened before with the water demon."

Roderich suddenly snatched the small stack of papers from his hands. "You need to keep these organized," he nagged.

Gil's eyes narrowed. "Are you even listening to me?"

"The prince was stuck with the monster for a very long time. The water demon used to use the prince's words against him, so when the ice one was torturing him, he kept his mouth shut," he summarized neatly as he started putting the pages into different piles. For a moment, violet eyes flicked up to meet his. "Go on; I'm listening."

With a short sigh, he complied. "Eventually, the oldest prince realized that he needed to escape. He had someone waiting for him in his kingdom, and he didn't want to disappoint them. Again.

"Before the prince left for his brother, he met the princess in secret. That day, he made a promise to return to her one day." He smiled at the brunette fondly. "Multiple times, the prince had tried to escape so he could make good on his promise. Each time he failed. Eventually he thought he would have to kill the monster in order to return home, but then…" He trailed off, unsure of how much he should actually say.

The sheet in his hand was Moonlight Sonata. Marked up to hell in faded pencil, and dark pen. Small sketches were in the corners, likely from when the musician lost interest in the song, or 'piece' as he called it. A small smile turned his lips. How like Roderich to draw such nonsense.

"Then?" Roderich prodded gently, sliding the paper from his grasp.

Gil smiled bitterly. "Then he told the monster of his promise to the princess. The next time he tried to escape, he was successful."

Roderich thoughtfully organized the papers. "If he was a monster, why didn't the prince kill him?" he asked.

Almost all the paper had been gathered. Gilbert gathered the few remaining pages as he answered. "Because the monster wasn't evil. Ivan was actually a sweet guy before his father cursed him. The prince realized this, and thought that the monster had been punished enough."

He chanced a look down at the top page in his hand. In Roderich's perfect handwriting, it read:

_Water demon: Anna Beilschmidt  
_

_Evil King: Marcus Beilschmidt—deceased  
_

_Ice demon: Mr. Winters Braginski—deceased  
_

"Specs….?"

Before he could ask, the page was nearly ripped from his hands. "It's none of your concern," Roderich responded quietly.

Gilbert glared at the musician before him. "I think it is." He took the page back from the now-nervous man. "What is this about?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:**Ok, I'm sorry about the chapter length… It's quite a bit shorter than I would like, but all the same, I wasn't entirely sure how much I should add…

Thanks to everyone who alerted, reviewed, favorited, and just read this story! Honestly, from the bottom of my heart…. I adore you all. Like, legitimately, I adore you guys.

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya, and not me.

~X~

_Roderich Edelstein  
_

~X~

Roderich had never felt more doomed in his entire life. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to avoid this. Or if that was even possible at this point.

'It's all because you were stupid and asked him to help you,' his thoughts nagged. 'You knew those papers were in that bench.'

With a sharp grimace, he tried to get his thoughts back in order to try and fix this. Being negative was not going to help him. "Not right now, Gilbert," he insisted, trying to get the page back. "I swear, I'll explain later, but please…"

Gil's eyes were cold, his mouth in an uncharacteristic scowl. "Explain it now, Roderich."

His name felt cruel in the Prussian's voice, like it was designed solely to rip the word into shreds. Years of being called 'Roddy', 'Specs', and even 'Princess' have caused his own name to sound foreign.

"You can read," Roderich evaded. "I know you understand what it means. Regardless of what I may have said, we both know you aren't stupid."

"Then tell me why," he returned. "Why do you have this written out? Hell, do you even know who some of these people are?"

"I did exactly what you wanted me to," Roderich snapped. "I listened to you. Every damned fairytale you recited, I paid attention to. Now you're getting upset because I figured out what you've been trying to tell me from the start?!"

Taking advantage of the albino's shock, he snatched the now-crumpled page from him. "We'll discuss this later," he added harshly before all but stomping out of the room.

That was the breaking point. He needed to think, to get away from the albino and his accusatory glares. Nearly three months of being in the same house was driving him absolutely mad.

He needed to get away. Away from Gilbert and his volatile moods, his infectious grin, and chilling grimace. He didn't want to be near the man with the violent past, and ability to force the truth from him.

He started taking random turns, descending a flight of stairs, and then back up two more, and generally trying to get himself lost in his own house. Frankly, for him, it wasn't difficult. His parents had made sure he would have a spacious home when they finally left for good when he turned eighteen.

His mind was plagued with memories as he continued in a dizzyingly random manner. It was always about appearances, his entire life. A nice house, a nice girl, and a life of art were all he was raised to want. Nothing more, nothing less. Not like Gilbert.

Gilbert, who had been raised to think he was someone to be kept away from. Who lived his life the way he wanted to. The one who made Roderich's life a hell, but kept him sane at the same time.

Each thought brought him down another corridor, through another door, around another corner.

Once he deemed himself far enough away from Gilbert, he found himself collapsed against the wall. He instantly removed his glasses and set them on the hardwood floor. "I'm such an idiot," he chuckled mirthlessly. The paper was still clutched in his hands.

He glared at the page, noting every imperfection. He'd have to make a correction to it. Gil claimed that the ice monster was still alive. Mr. Winters was no longer a candidate. But, who would that leave? He would likely have to call Ludwig if he wanted another name. It couldn't be anyone Roderich knew personally.

_"The monster wasn't evil. Ivan was actually a sweet guy before his father cursed him,"_Gilbert's voice repeated in his head.

'Ivan Braginski,' his mind supplied. The son who was abused just as bad, if not worse, than Gil. Was that the answer, then? It fit. That was the last name he needed, and Gilbert handed it to him on a silver plate.

He half-heard footsteps approaching; but he didn't exactly register the sound. Roderich was too focused on his inner-monologue.

He did, however, notice when the footfalls stopped mere feet in front of him. "Are you just going to sit there all day?" Gilbert asked.

His head snapped up.

Gil looked almost apologetic; slightly hunched shoulders and a sheepish grin. "Can we talk? Without all the yelling this time?"

Roderich shook his head tiredly. "I can't handle this right now. Just leave me alone."

"And go back to Ludwig?" he added.

Roderich glared. "Knowing that your mother used to abuse you? No. You aren't going back to that house."

"I never said she—"

"'The water demon tortured the oldest prince until he couldn't even remember his own name,'" Roderich repeated. He got some sort of sick pleasure from using the other's words against him. "I called your brother. He told me."

Gilbert looked dumbstruck. "How much did he tell you?" he asked. His voice was ratcheted down to a near-whisper.

Roderich grimaced. "That piece of paper? He gave me the names. Oh, and mentioned that you were a bit vague with the details on the King. Remind me to spit on his grave."

He exhaled shakily as he slid down the wall opposite of the brunette. "Ludwig's been known to stretch the truth," he offered weakly.

"You're mistaking your brother for yourself," Roderich contradicted. "But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Impatience started to seep into his tone, despite the fact that he looked as exhausted as Roderich felt.

Roderich's fingers ran over the once-smooth paper. "You claim that your stories are all true," he said softly. "Are you going to stand by that?"

~X~

If Roderich could have it his way, they wouldn't be having this discussion for another month or so. He would have liked to have some time to dig up some more information on Ivan, and the dynamic between him and Gilbert.

Unfortunately, he didn't get that kind of time. He got approximately fifteen minutes to gather his thoughts and prepare himself for what may be the biggest confrontation of his life.

"Well?" Gilbert asked.

Roderich glared at their surroundings. They had come full circle, in a way. Gilbert was on the piano bench, tensed up with his eyes focused on Roderich who was on the chaise lounge. It was just like the telling of the first story. If he had known it would escalate like this, he likely wouldn't have asked in the first place.

"Where do you want me to start?" he finally asked, fixing his eyes on Gilbert's.

"I want you to start from where you think the beginning is. Generally, that is where a story begins." He smiled slightly despite himself. "So, 'once upon a time', Roddy," he prompted.

"You know I hate clichés like that." He pursed his lips in thought. "Your father was abusive," he began. "He used to physically hurt you, and sent you to the hospital more times than I care to think. Your parents divorced shortly before you came here, and he died a few years later.

"According to you, he also used to keep you locked up. Hid you away from the world while likely doting on your brother." Roderich shook his head in disgust. The fact that someone's own father could treat them like that…

His hands clenched into fists. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair that Gilbert had to live like that for so much of his life. Had no one been paying attention?

"Go on," Gilbert prodded. His voice was surprisingly gentle, considering the natural roughness of it.

Roderich's gaze connected with Gil's in a moment of shock. He had almost forgotten the other was there for a moment. Again, he had been lost in his own thoughts. It was becoming increasingly common around the other

With a shivering breath, he did as asked. "Your mother was verbally abusive as well. Perhaps she also hurt you physically, but not like your father. She never had to put you in the hospital, and I never saw a mark on you."

Ok, that last part was a lie. Gilbert had gotten into many fights since they met. The occasional bruise or cut would mar his skin, but nothing that raised a red flag. Nothing Roderich ever found worth questioning.

Adjusting his glasses, he got back to explaining. "You put up with it until you met your 'princess'. Elizaveta." The mere mention of her name caused his shoulders to stiffen. He didn't like that, he finally realized. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that it irked him.

"You went to the Braginski's home so you could apologize for trespassing. I don't know why, but you did. However, instead of accepting, Ivan kidnapped you and held you hostage for a year and a half. He cut you, and probably did further damage that I can't see."

Gilbert hummed softly. "So you were listening," he marveled. "But… Ivan? You didn't have his name down, so how…?"

"'The monster wasn't evil. Ivan was actually a sweet guy,'" Roderich repeated softly. "I…. I pulled a few files. Ivan was Winters' son. When you said the name, it just sort of clicked."

A heavy silence fell over them, neither knowing what to say.

Finally, Roderich spoke up. "Am I right?"

A bitter laugh rang through the air. "Almost, Roddy. You were a little bit off on some of the finer details."

Roderich stood up, and crossed the room. Delicately, he placed a hand over Gil's. "Then correct me?" he asked.

Crimson eyes rose to meet his. The slightest hint of a smile touched his lips. "Are you sure? Once you know, there's no going back."

An inexplicable shudder coursed through Roderich's very being at the promise those words held. "Tell me," he insisted. "Tell me everything."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia and its respective characters belong to Himaruya.

~X~

_Gilbert Beilschmidt  
_

~X~

It was an interesting suggestion, he thought with an internal smirk. 'Tell me everything'. If only he could. There was simply too much to tell; there would never be enough time.

Roderich gracefully seated himself on the ground before him, with his legs curled beneath him. Violet eyes were intent on his, visible clearly above the glasses that were sliding down his thin nose.

It was a nice sight, Gilbert had to admit. But, he had priorities. Staring at the brunette would get him nowhere.

"And where would you like me to start?" he asked. "Anywhere in particular?"

Roderich rolled his eyes. "The same place I did. The beginning."

"No such thing as a beginning, Roderich. That's the first rule of a real story." He ignored the sharp glare. "All right, all right. No need to get pissy. So, you were pretty spot-on about my father," he said. "How you figured that out, I'm assuming you'll never tell me…?" He raised a questioning brow.

A light pink dusted his cheeks. "I told you I pulled some files," he mumbled. "I know it's said a lot, but money does talk."

A chill went through Gilbert. The normally prim and proper man resorting to paying people for information… It put a new perspective on Roderich. It made him seem less naïve, less innocent. Less of a princess, and more of a rogue assassin.

"All right," he said. "Well, I don't really have to correct that. I could elaborate, but if you have the files I don't think that's necessary. But, what you said about my mother…" He shook his head. "That was pretty far off. She didn't hurt me. Next to West, she was the safest person to me."

Roderich's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you said—"

"I know what I said," Gil interrupted. "I need you to listen, and listen closely, all right, Roderich?"

He nodded once, a small frown on his lips. He wasn't happy with being interrupted, that much was obvious. "Go ahead."

Gil took a moment to think. He struggled to pick out the right words to explain. "My mother wasn't like yours. She wasn't some international hot-shot who could go wherever, and do whatever. My mom has poor health, and can barely work.

"The drowning I talked about? She was overprotective. It was emotional smothering. Nothing dangerous, just really exhausting. Add to that the pressure of working full-time and… Well, sometimes I would just get so tired I couldn't even remember my own name by the end of the day. That's what I meant before."

Blatant shock crossed the musician's face. "You were working forty hour weeks on top of school? Gilbert, what the hell?"

Gil shrugged. There goes one of his secrets. "Someone had to pay bills, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be my pathetic excuse for a dad. Are you sure you want me to keep going? It really doesn't get any better from here."

"Just tell me," Roderich insisted, rearranging himself so he leaned against the bench. "I deserve to know after all of this."

Out of habit, Gilbert ruffled Roderich's hair, just like he used to do with his little brother. He laughed when Roderich slapped his hand away and proceeded to try and fix it. "All right, Specs. So, Ivan next? You were really far off on that one."

He nodded once, and closed his eyes. His head rested on the edge of the piano bench. "Then correct me."

Gil had to suppress a chuckle. "Someone's making a lot of demands today," he noted as he eased the glasses off Roderich's face. "Ivan and I go way back. We've known each other for maybe fifteen years now. Or, maybe it's been longer than that." After carefully folding the glasses, he set them on top of the piano before continuing.

"We were going to rule the world together, just the two of us. We had it all planned out, too. That's the kind of kids we were. I can tell you right now that Ivan's dad liked me about as much as mine did. But he would take it out on his son, and not me." Gilbert bit his lip. "I knew that, but I still kept going over to his house. I'm as responsible for his pain as Winters. I turned him into a monster."

"That's bullshit," Roderich muttered. "Just because you were a stupid child doesn't mean it's your fault Ivan was hurt. It's still his father's fault."

'If only that were true,' Gilbert thought bitterly. "I used to patch him up afterwards if I thought we wouldn't get caught. I would sneak in through the window in the middle of the night. That was the trespassing deal. I would go over uninvited, and then afterwards Ivan would get hurt. And even after that, I would come back and try to fix it.

"But, back to the point. I'll be blunt and tell you that the main reason I left is because I was done. I was done paying all the bills, done working a dead-end job, done knowing that the princess would never love me. So, I did what I always used to do. I went to see Ivan."

He ignored the small wince from Roderich. Honesty was going to hurt a bit. Gilbert realized this, but he decided that Roddy was the one who asked. He was tougher than Gil had believed, anyways.

"Winters had been dead for years, so I played off my visit as offering my condolences for his death. Ivan, of course, knew better. He knew that I was aware of his 'situation'. He thought that I had found out the circumstances of his father's death, and panicked." Gil shuddered. He didn't find out that Ivan bludgeoned his own father to death until he had been held captive for over a month. "Now, I can't tell you about the circumstances, because I promised. You know how it is; I always keep my promises. But, I will tell you this: I don't blame Ivan." Gil smiled slightly. It was a bitter mockery of his usually smug grin. "Winters was stupid, and I'm not surprised it happened. To be honest, the old man had it coming."

"You're getting sidetracked," Roderich murmured; his eyes still closed. "How did Ivan panicking lead to being trapped in his basement?"

'Focus,' he reminded himself. He kept forgetting that Roderich was bad at connecting the dots in these kinds of things. "The next thing I remember I was chained up in the basement with a huge knot on the back of my head. He had knocked me out and dragged me down there, apparently. He kept me there for a bit over a year, beating me, and then fixing me. Eventually, I managed to convince him that I wasn't going to tell, and he let me escape."

"What do you mean he 'fixed you'?" Roderich asked softly. His eyes were finally open, gently probing for the truth.

Gilbert tapped his shoulder. There was still a scar there, though Roderich couldn't see it. "He used to come back after a particularly rough 'session'. He would stitch up any cut, ice any bruise, and reset any bone. He didn't want anything to be permanently wrong with me. He was always gentle then, carefully treating every injury. We would talk while this was going on; reminisce about old times and all. I told him about you, actually."

"The monster wasn't evil," Roderich repeated reflectively. "So that's what you meant."

"It's not like I was going to kill one of my closest friends," he shrugged. "Besides, he's just got issues. Given the chance, I'm pretty sure he'd even apologize."

"He should do more than just apologize," Roderich griped. "Two years, Gilbert. That's a long time for you to be gone."

"A year and a half of food and rent, and all it cost me was a round trip plane ticket," Gil returned. "I'm not making excuses; I'm just telling you how it is."

Roderich sighed softly, sitting up properly. "So that's it, then? That's your story?"

Gilbert grinned slightly. "Basically. I mean, unless you want ever single mundane detail about Ivan's basement or the sappy love story. I'll be happy to tell you, if you want, though."

The brunette scoffed as he reached up to retrieve his glasses. "Because I want to hear all about your love affair with my oldest friend," he deadpanned. "No, I'm perfectly content with that being the end. So, now that that's done, are you going to go back to your princess?"

'Oldest friend'? Gil thought. "Who? Wait… What does Elizaveta have to do with this?"

Roderich blinked. "That's who your princess is, right? The brunette with the pretty eyes? Honestly, the way you two used to act around each other, I was actually quite surprised when you mentioned it…"

Gil's face screwed up in distaste. "You thought- What the hell, Roderich? Crazy frying pan lady? She'd kill me in an instant! What would make you think she was the princess?"

Roderich looked at him blankly. "I was wrong?" Disappointment rang clear in his tone.

Gilbert had to resist the urge to laugh. Of course. Roderich was the ever-oblivious one when it came to this sort of thing. "You're so far off it's barely funny. C'mon; you know who the princess is. Guess." A brow quirked up challengingly.

"A brunette with pretty eyes," he mused. Thoughtfully, he brushed a few strands of dark hair from his forehead. "…. The only other person I can think that even remotely fits that is Antonio."

He almost hit his head against the piano. "Dude. No. Toni's great and all, but he's my friend. Try again," he insisted.

"I don't know anyone else who fits that description," he hissed. "Unless you somehow fell for one of the Italian brothers."

Gil threw up his hands in frustration. This was going absolutely nowhere. He was going to have to just be blunt. He moved to stand in front of the still-seated brunette. "Roderich, I want you to think about every nickname I have ever given you."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Roderich asked testily. He was obviously just as annoyed as the albino.

"Just do it," Gil insisted. "It'll all make sense in a minute, I promise." If this didn't work… Well, this was about as direct as Gilbert wanted to be at this point. He'd say it straight up if he had to, but it wasn't something he wanted to do.

Roderich eyed him warily, but nodded.

Gilbert could almost see into his mind in that moment. Years of watching Roderich had made it so he could usually read his face once the musician's guard was down. The slight grimace for 'Specs', the eye-roll for 'Roddy', the adorable little pout for 'Priss'. He even caught the barest hint of a smirk for 'Little Master'. Honestly, for being so unreadable, Roderich had the tendency to be an open book when he wasn't paying attention.

He could pinpoint the second Roderich figured it out. The barest hint of flush across his cheeks, the widening of violet eyes, and the way his lips parted into a little 'o' of surprise. 'Princess'.

"Say it," Gilbert insisted as he tried to keep the smirk off his face. Much as he loved teasing the brunette, this wasn't the right time. If he wanted his aristocrat to believe him, he had to make sure to keep things as serious as he could. "I want to hear it, Princess."

"You're joking," he mouthed. "You can't…. You can't be serious."

Gil broke into a wide grin. Seriousness be damned; this reaction was priceless. "C'mon, Roderich. Humor me. I fought monsters for you; it's the least you can do."

His cheeks darkened. "You had better not be implying what I think you are," he threatened. "I'm not going to play these games with you. I am not going to play damsel in distress for you. Go find some other poor soul."

Ok, that stung. "Christ, Priss. Throw away my affections like they're nothing why don't you? Ever consider that I mean it?"

Panic crossed Roderich's face for a split-second. "You're not," he insisted almost inaudibly. "That's impossible. I mean… It makes no sense."

Gilbert shrugged. "I think it makes perfect sense. You may be a priss, and really uptight, but I like you anyways. Why the hell do you think I came here of all places?" Well, 'like' wasn't the right word. 'Adore', perhaps, or maybe even 'love' would be more accurate. However, 'like' was less likely to set off the pianist.

That stumped the brunette for a moment. His fingers started to tap against the floor as he scrambled for a reason. "I don't know," Roderich finally admitted. '"The piano?"

Gil scoffed. "The piano means nothing to me. It's the person who plays it that I came here for." He grabbed the Austrian's wrist and pulled him upright.

The brunette tried to tug himself free from Gilbert's grasp. "Gil," he seethed, still struggling.

He held fast, refusing to let go. "Roderich, I've said this a lot today, but I need you to listen to me, and listen to me closely. I care. I fucking care a lot. I came here because even though I was too late to legitimately keep my promise, I wanted to get back to you first. Two years of isolation, and you're the first person I wanted to see. Is this making sense to you?"

Wide, violet eyes gazed at him, trying to figure it out. Finally, he sighed, giving in. "If I ever get the sense that you're screwing with me, so help me, you will be running back to Ivan in a heartbeat."

It took a moment for Gilbert to decipher the Roderich-speak. He released the brunette from his grip as he tipped his head to the side. "So…. Yes? You understand, and you accept what I'm offering?" Sure, he hadn't quite put his offer into words, but he figured it was clear enough.

Dating, engagement, eventually marriage… He was offering to always stay by his side, even when Roderich went through one of his 'I'm worthless and everyone hates me' phases again. (That really wasn't fun the last time that happened. But, Gilbert wanted to be the one to help him out of it if it happened.)

In a word, Gilbert was offering a fairytale.

A quick roll of his eyes was all the answer Gilbert needed. "If you screw up you won't get a second chance, but… Yes."

That took a few seconds to fully process. 'Yes'. Roderich had agreed. A shaky laugh spilled from his lips. "You won't be disappointed. I promise."

Without thinking, he pulled the brunette against his chest. Gil reveled in the feel of the slender body against his, the heat radiating from his skin.

It took a moment, but Roderich relaxed against his hold with a soft chuckle. "And you always keep your promises," he said.

Gilbert grinned like an idiot as he pressed a gentle kiss to Roderich's forehead. "I won't fail you like I did last time. I'll keep this promise, come hell or high water."

Roderich muttered something unintelligibly, and fought weakly against Gil's hold for a fraction of a second. "You only half-failed," Roderich finally said, smile evident in his tone. "You'll do better this time, I'm sure of it."

Gilbert wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. No one, especially Roderich, had faith in him in that regard. "Thank you," he murmured, tightening his hold around Roderich.

It was a moment that Gilbert didn't want to end. He was perfectly content to hold his priss for the rest of his life. To feel Roderich's heartbeat so close to his own, to hear his gentle breath.

He wasn't stupid. Gil knew that it wasn't going to be a perfect fairytale. There was no guarantee of a 'happily ever after'. Roderich was still going to be uptight about all the little things, and Gilbert was still going to make fun of him for it. They would probably continue to bicker over every little thing. Their problems and issues weren't going to disappear over night. Gilbert realized this years ago.

But, Gilbert didn't really care. He didn't need 'happily ever after' if he had Roderich in his arms.

~X~

**Author's Note: **Ok, so I normally put these at the top of the chapter, but since this is the last one… Well, I just wanted to put it at the end. It seemed fitting, y'know? I certainly can't say goodbye at the beginning, can I? That would put everything out of order.

So, once more, thank you for all the reviews, alerts, favorites, etc.; thank you for even just reading it ^_^

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading The Storyteller as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks again~


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